"When you write another libretto, why not let me see it?"
"You desire to inflict a fourth rejection upon me, madame?"
"If you like, I'll tell you the only thing I desire," she replied, with a sort of brutal frankness well calculated to appeal to his rough character. "It has nothing to do with you. I haven't your interests at my heart. Why should I bother about them? All I want is to get something fine for my husband when a chance arises. I know what's good better than you do, my friend. You showed me three libretti that didn't do. Show me one that does do, and I'll pay you a price that will astonish you."
Gillier's large eyes shone.
"How much would you pay?"
"Show me a fine libretto!"
"Tell me how much you'd pay."
She laughed.
"Five times as much as anyone else offered you. But you would have to prove the offer to my satisfaction."
Gillier fidgeted on his chair, took hold of the Dépêche Algérienne, and began carefully to fold it into pleats.