"And will you not come to me sometimes, Antoinette?"
"I am sorry, monsieur; no, I cannot."
"Then I will visit you."
"That must not be either: a man never passes our threshold. I must bid you farewell."
"Ah, you do not mean to be so cruel, Antoinette?"
"There is no cruelty," said she, pouting; "but I mean what I say."
"Our acquaintance must not cease, however," said Ronald, taking her hand and seating her beside him near the window which overlooked the bustling Rue Haute. "Must we never see each other more, and only because there are no more confounded drugs to be swallowed and pillows to be smoothed?"
"It must be so, my friend; and I—I hope you have been satisfied with me."
"Antoinette! satisfied? and with you? Ah! how can you speak so coldly? My dear little girl, you know not the deep interest I take in you. But, tell me, would you wish to leave Brussels? It cannot be your native place."
"Monsieur, I do not understand—"