A Chair on the Boulevard

by Leonard Merrick

"Love!" added Goujaud, feeling himself the embodiment of all the heroes of romance.

"Oh?" Her glance mocked, encouraged. "I am dying to hear about your picture, though! What is the subject?"

"It is not exactly what you mean by a 'picture.'" He fiddled with his glass. "It is, in fact, a poster that I project."

"A poster?" she exclaimed. "And you ask me to—oh, no, I couldn't possibly!"

"Mademoiselle!"

"I really don't think I could. A poster? Ah, no!"

"To save me!" he implored. "Because my whole life depends on your decision!"

"How can a poster matter so much to you? The proposal is absurd." She regarded her pêche Melba with a frown.

"If you think of becoming an actress, remember what a splendid advertisement it would be!" he urged feverishly.

"Oh, flûte!" But she had wavered at that.