She looked at him with a smile that said:
“Will you let me do for you what I have done for others?”
But she did not speak these words. On the contrary, she immediately endeavored to destroy the impression which she believed her words had made upon him.
“Go and bring some water,” she said, “and I will light the fire.”
When he returned, carrying a carafe, the fire blazed brightly, lighting the whole room. Phillis was seated at the desk, writing.
“What are you doing?” he asked in surprise.
“I am writing our menu, for you know we are not going to sit down at the table like the bourgeois. How do you like it?”
She read it to him.
“Sardines de Nantes.”
“Cuisse de dinde rotie.”