"Poor child! You must go home and go back to bed."
"But I've got to go to work."
"Poor thing." They kissed each other tenderly and languidly.
The waiter came with coffee and hot milk and little crisp loaves of bread.
"Oh, Paris is wonderful in the early morning!" said Martin.
"Indeed it is.... Good-bye, little girl, if you must go. We'll see each other again."
"You must call me Yvonne." She pouted a little.
"All right, Yvonne." He got to his feet and pressed her two hands.
"Well, what sort of a time did you have, Howe?"
"Curious. I lost our friends one by one, left two women and slept a little while on the grass in front of Notre Dame. That was my real love of the night."