'It is not here.'
He produced it out of his pocket.
She shrugged her shoulders.
'I am not in the vein.'
'You said last week you were not in the vein,' he said, laughing tremulously, 'and you read me that scene from Ruy Blas, so that when we went to see Sarah Bernhardt in the evening I was disappointed!'
She smiled, not being able to help it, for all flattery was sweet to her.
'We must catch our train. I would never speak to you again if we were late!'
He held up his watch to her.
'An hour—it is, at the most, half an hour's walk.'
'Ah, mon Dieu!' she cried, clasping her hands. 'It is all over, the vote is given. Perhaps Taranne is writing to me now, at this moment!'