“Fie donc. Comme c’est méchant.”
“Wee, wee.”
Mrs. Sixsmith tittered.
“She’s going into management very soon.”
“Swank?”
“We seek a Romeo, Mr. Smee.”
“Now, now...!”
“Don’t look like that, Mr. Smee—nobody’s asking you,” Mrs. Sixsmith murmured.
Mr. Smee scratched reflectively his head.
“Who is it you’re after?” he asked.