“Listen, Margot. If that dog of a Popol tries to molest you, let me know. I’ll do him up; make a hospital case of him. See!”
“Oh, no! I wouldn’t like you to have any trouble on my account.”
“Trouble! An exquisite pleasure. Look here, Margot.... Won’t you come with me to the cinema some night?”
“No, thank you. I never go out with any one.”
“I know you don’t. That’s why I ask you. Well, I won’t press you. You may change your mind. In any case, I’m watching, and if you need a protector I’m here.”
The girl was touched, but at the same time embarrassed. She did not care enough for Garnier to be more than a comrade to him, and something told her this would be difficult. He could not comprehend that coldness of temperament, which was her English heritage, and made her able to be friendly with a man while keeping a barrier between them. Garnier was from the south, romantic, hotblooded. He would never be able to understand. She decided to keep him at a distance, though she liked him immensely.
The conflict between him and Popol came sooner than she expected. There was a big strike of the carpenters, and Florent Garnier was an executive. Though he was very busy addressing meetings and spent most of his time at the Bourse du Travail, nevertheless he often came into the bar to rest for half an hour over a cup of coffee.
It was on an afternoon in early Spring. Madame had gone out and Margot was alone behind the bar. In a dusky corner Florent Garnier sat silent. He looked tired and worried. The strike was not going well. The patrons were getting outside labour; something had to be done.
Everything was bright and shining. The zinc counter was polished to look like silver, the glasses to resemble crystal. Outside there was a flutter of green leaves and the chirping of sparrows. It was a year since Margot had come to Paris. On the whole it had been a happy year. As an education it had been priceless. Now she knew the city and its perils and was armoured against its temptations. She was equipped to fight the battle. She was feeling unusually gay and sang as she waited for customers.
Popol entered. “Ha! mademoiselle. You are alone. You may give me a picon citron.”