"It's a very voluptuous profession!" said Tobie, glancing constantly at Balivan's watch, which had been placed on the table in order to regulate the coming-in and going-out of the different players.
"Well, messieurs, it seems to me your game is rather slow," said Varinet, walking up to the table.
"Parbleu! Tobie keeps passing with superb hands," cried Balivan. "It would seem that he doesn't want to resort to another olive."
"I am waiting for a lucky streak. Ah! now it's time for us to go out."
Pigeonnier hastily left his seat, and Balivan was obliged to do the same, but he did it unwillingly.
"We had at least half a minute more to stay," he said. "Tobie left too soon."
"Quarter to one!" cried the stout youth, with a glance at the clock. "Mon Dieu! Madame Pluchonneau, my concierge, is very hard of hearing."
Balivan seized Tobie's arm as he was edging toward the door while making a pretence of examining the pictures, and led him back to the punch table.
"Come and have a drink," he said.
"But I've drunk a great deal already."