BUILDER. I suppose so. Loose place, Paris.
CAMILLE. Loose? What is that, Monsieur?
BUILDER. The opposite of strict.
CAMILLE. Strict! Oh! certainly we like life, we other French. It is not like England. I take this to Madame, Monsieur. [She turns as if to go] Excuse me.
BUILDER. I thought you Frenchwomen all married young.
CAMILLE. I 'ave been married; my 'usband did die—en Afrique.
BUILDER. You wear no ring.
CAMILLE. [Smiling] I prefare to be mademoiselle, Monsieur.
BUILDER. [Dubiously] Well, it's all the same to us. [He takes a letter up from the table] You might take this to Mrs Builder too. [Again their fingers touch, and there is a suspicion of encounter between their eyes.]
CAMILLE goes out.