“No, monsieur.”
But she took her seat at the other end of the couch. Her blushing face and her confusion betrayed a part of her sensations. I myself was embarrassed—think of it! with a flower girl! Indeed, it was just because she was a flower girl that I didn’t know where to begin. I give you my word, reader, that I should have made much more rapid progress with a grande dame or a grisette.
“Do you know, Nicette, that you are charming?”
“I have been told so, monsieur.”
“You must have many men making love to you?”
“Oh! there’s some that try to fool me when they come to buy flowers of me; but I don’t listen to ’em.”
“Why do you think that they are trying to fool you?”
“Oh! because they’re swells—like you.”
“So, if I should mention the word love to you, you would think——”
“That you was making fun of me. Pardi! that’s plain enough!”