"You ... you did not tell her—the wife—about our little conspiracy?—the night of the cowboy party, hein?..." As he hesitated she caught the accusatory look in his eyes, and she wheeled about. "Comment! ... You were so stupid! ... Dieu! que les hommes sont sôts!"
"Nonsense! ... she laughed over it!" he said, recovering himself. "Besides, she had guessed it already!"
"My dear Teddy," she said, in very bad humor, "I take back all I said ... You were born a husband—typical! ideal!—You would be content with any one! ... with Victorine, even!"
She flung the rabbit's foot furiously among the pigments.
"Allons, we might just as well say adieu!"
"Why?"
"She does not know you have come?"
"No, but..."
"Well, well ... don't be fool enough to tell her! ... Go right back now. Make a call in some box where she can see you, and escape a good..." She stopped, shaking her hand in the direction of his ear.
"You are mistaken!" he began, flushing. "You don't know her..."