"No, Monsieur."
When I turned the corner of the path leading to the house, I could see Monsieur. He had not stirred from the spot. With head lowered, and irresolute legs, he was still looking at the muck-heap, scratching his neck.
After dinner, in the salon, Monsieur and Madame had a hot quarrel.
Madame said:
"I tell you that you are paying attention to this girl."
Monsieur answered:
"I? Well, indeed, that's an idea! Come, my pet; such a loose creature,—a dirty thing, and possibly diseased. Oh! really, that is too much."
Madame resumed:
"Do you think, then, that I don't know your conduct and your tastes?"