“Yes, monsieur, and sold it well, too; for it’s a good shop. But they say Mamzelle Nicette didn’t need it, because she’d made her fortune—come into money.”
“And where is she now?”
“Bless my soul! monsieur, I don’t know; she didn’t say where she was going, and we don’t never see her now.”
“And that man who used to come to see her every day?”
“Why! he kep’ on coming, but not so often toward the end.”
“Did he take her away?”
“I don’t know nothing about it, monsieur; but I’m inclined to think she sold her stock of her own accord.”
“When was that?”
“Why, near six weeks ago.”