"Friendship," said Guy, "is all very well, it is very good, very agreeable, but—"
"But—?"
"Love—"
"Do not mention that to me! That takes wings, b-r-r! Like swallows. It flits. It leaves for Italy. But friendship—"
She extended her small firm hand as rigid as steel.
"When you desire to visit me over there, I shall be at home. I will give you the address. But it is not Guy who will come, but Monsieur de Lissac, remember. Is that understood?"
"I should be very silly if I answered yes."
Marianne shrugged her shoulders.
"Compliments! How foolish you are! Keep that sort of talk for others. It is a long time since they were addressed to me."
She took that man's face between her hands and kissed his cheeks in a frank, friendly way. Guy became somewhat pale.