"By the way, that girl who lives on the entresol makes shirts, doesn't she?"
"Yes, monsieur; she works for a linen draper; her sewing is perfect, so they say."
"In that case, I am inclined to order some shirts of her. One ought always to employ one's neighbors, as far as possible."
And our dandified friend turned on his heel, crossed the courtyard, and in an instant stood before Georgette's door, which was always unlocked during the day.
Monsieur de Mardeille tapped softly twice.
"Come in, the door is unlocked," replied the same voice that he had heard the night before.
Monsieur de Mardeille entered with the ease of manner born of familiarity with society, and the nonchalance which a rich man always affects when he calls upon poor people—unless, that is to say, he is possessed of intelligence or tact; in which case, far from seeking to make his superiority felt, his endeavor will rather be to keep it out of sight. But men of tact and intelligence are rare, and Georgette's caller was deficient in both those qualities.
However, he abated something of his lordly manner when he saw how unconcernedly the young woman received him. She seemed in no wise perturbed by his visit, but gracefully motioned him to a chair and coolly resumed her own, which was near the window, saying:
"May I know, monsieur, to what I am indebted for the honor of your visit?"
Monsieur de Mardeille settled himself comfortably in his chair, and replied: