"Pardon; he meant it for me."
"You are mad! You are the best friends in the world, you and your grandfather."
"Just so."
"He did not wish to turn you out of the room?"
"No."
"Then?"
"He was ordering me to leave the house."
"Jean!"
"And for all that, the poor man was delighted to see me come back to it."
Jean would not look at his mother now, because tears had gushed from Madame Oberlé's eyes, because she had come close to him, because she had taken his hands.