"I'll tell you," continued Jacques. "With a negligent and careless air she would have said, 'Really, sir—I do not know—I have scarcely made up my mind—if I decide to go—I shall not go, however, I think—if I go, it will be with Mr. Blank—I have half promised him;' and so forth. How wearisome! You, on the contrary, my little friend, clap your hands and cry, 'Oh! I am going! Bathurst says he'll go with me!' Bathurst is a good boy; isn't he your sweetheart?"
The girl blushed and laughed.
"No, indeed, sir!" she said.
"That is well; choose some elderly admirer, my dear child—like myself."
The laughter was louder than ever.
"It wouldn't do for you to have two," she said with a merry glance.
Jacques recoiled.
"Every body knows it!" he murmured ruefully.
"They do so," replied the merry girl, who caught these half-uttered words; "but she's a very sweet lady."
Jacques sighed.