"In the firtht plath, I thtoop, not lie down—a very different thing. You ought to know that, to danth properly, you mutht thtoop a little. I learned that from a great danther."
"You tire me! Ever thinth thith fellow hath been eighth clerk to a broker, he maketh fun of everybody."
"What news from the Bourse to-night?" said Monléard, accosting the young man whom Anatole had called Vauflers.
"You know that several firms were sold out this morning. I believe that we haven't seen the end yet. There's need of a thorough weeding-out. There are some fellows who have been playing too high for a long time."
Auguste pressed his lips together and walked away.
"Shan't we have a game of bouillotte?" said the young man.
"Bouillotte ith bad form jutht now, my dear fellow; nobody playth it," replied tall Anatole, gazing admiringly at his gloves.
"Bézique's the proper thing, I suppose?"
"No, lanthquenet thtill."