"Monsieur, you overwhelm me with chivalries," she replied; "I shall be enchanted." And, five minutes later, the Incognita and I were polishing off smoked herring and potato salad, like people who had no time to lose.
"Do you generally come here?" she asked, when we had leisure.
"Infrequently—no oftener than I have a franc in my pocket. But details of my fasts would form a poor recital, and I make a capital listener."
"You also make a capital luncheon," she remarked.
"Do not prevaricate," I said severely. "I am consumed with impatience to hear the history of your life. Be merciful and communicative."
"Well, I am young, fair, accomplished, and of an amiable disposition," she began, leaning her elbows on the table.
"These things are obvious. Come to confidences! What is your profession?"
"By profession I am a clairvoyante and palmist," she announced.
I gave her my hand at once, and I was in two minds about giving her my heart. "Proceed," I told her; "reveal my destiny!"
Her air was profoundly mystical.