"This party has been a failure," said Philémon to young Callé, who put on his gloves as he went downstairs. "It's only ten o'clock—what in the deuce can we do now?"
"Seven minutes past ten!" said the young spark, looking at his watch; "I agree with the Treasury."
"Never mind; a fellow can't go home to bed at seven minutes after ten; for my part, I hate to go to bed early."
"True—it's bad form."
"But you always want me to go to bed early, my dear."
"Yes—because it's very healthy for women; they need more sleep than we do.—Which way are you going, Monsieur Callé?"
"Rue de la Tour d'Auvergne, No. 8, monsieur."
"Indeed! and we live on Rue Bleue, within a few steps. By the way, Monsieur Callé, are you related to a Callé of Lyon, wholesale dealer in silks?"
"He's my cousin, monsieur."
"Pardieu! he's one of my best friends. When we were bachelors, he used to come to Paris often; we've had many a spree together!"