"That was a little joke. Think about your dinner for to-morrow."
"Whom have you asked? My two dear friends, Madame Lambert and her sister, I am sure."
"No, I haven't asked your friends. Madame Lambert takes snuff, and I consider it a detestable habit in a woman. Let her smoke, if she wants to; I can stand that; there are some very pretty women who smoke, nowadays. But to carry a snuff-box! horror! When she takes out her handkerchief, you would think you were in a porter's lodge. With her sister it's something else: whenever you look at her, she throws her head to one side and shakes it and blinks her eyes."
"That isn't her fault; it's a nervous trouble."
"I don't say it is her fault, but I don't dare to look at people who have that sort of trouble; I am always afraid that I shall do just what they do. I have asked two gentlemen to dinner; that will be livelier, not so strait-laced; we can laugh and enjoy ourselves. There'll be Bruneau, one of my fellow clerks in the department——"
"Oh! I don't like your friend Bruneau; he's good for nothing but to smoke and drink beer, and doesn't enjoy himself anywhere except in cafés. As soon as dinner's over, he'll want to go to the café, of course. So polite to me! If he would only go alone, I wouldn't care a rap; but he always takes you with him!"
"Oh! no, not always; only once in a while, to play a four-handed game of dominoes; he's very strong at it."
"And who's the other?"
"The other—can't you guess? It's the young man who was obliging enough to escort you home the other evening—Monsieur Callé."
"Have you been to his house?"