“In Brittany,” said Rogron.
“Brittany is a large place,” remarked Monsieur Lesourd.
“Her grandfather and grandmother Lorrain wrote to us—when was that, my dear?” said Rogron addressing his sister.
Sylvie, who was just then asking Madame Garceland where she had bought the stuff for her gown, answered hastily, without thinking of the effect of her words:—
“Before we sold the business.”
“And have you only just answered the letter, mademoiselle?” asked the notary.
Sylvie turned as red as a live coal.
“We wrote to the Institution of Saint-Jacques,” remarked Rogron.
“That is a sort of hospital or almshouse for old people,” said Monsieur Desfondrilles, who knew Nantes. “She can’t be there; they receive no one under sixty.”
“She is there, with her grandmother Lorrain,” said Rogron.