"What do you want of me?"
"I don't want anything, my little darling; you're too dainty for me. I don't like men with pink cheeks."
"Ah! I think I recognize you now; you're the girl who sells violets."
"When there is any, my little ducky."
"If you've been running after me to offer me flowers, you might have saved yourself the trouble."
"No, it isn't for that; I have a message for you."
"Who gave it to you?"
"A lady, and a very pretty lady too."
"A lady—what's her name?"
"She didn't tell me; and you don't suppose I asked her, do you? but she described you so that I couldn't make any mistake. She has something to say to you, and she'll be at the Pâté on Place des Italiens to-morrow night at nine o'clock."