She sat down wearily.
He grinned:
“No, you’re out of it, dear friend. As the children say, you’re not ‘burning’ at all. Oh, not a bit of it! And it’s so easy! Shall I help you? It’s next to you, dear friend, on that little table.... And yet, by Jove, there’s not much on that little table! Something to read, something to write with, something to smoke, something to eat . . . and that’s all.... Will you have one of these candied fruits?... Or perhaps you would rather wait for the more substantial meal which I have ordered?”
Clarisse made no reply. She did not even seem to listen to what he was saying, as though she expected other words, more serious words, which he could not fail to utter.
He cleared the table of all the things that lay upon it and put them on the mantel-piece. Then he rang the bell.
A head-waiter appeared. Daubrecq asked:
“Is the lunch which I ordered ready?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It’s for two, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.”