“Wages?” I cried. “But you weren’t a servant.”
“No, that’s true,” she said. “I was only a wife.”
“And a mother,” I reminded her. “You seem to forget that.”
“Not at all,” she replied. “I remember it distinctly.”
I looked at her sternly.
“Then am I to understand,” I asked, “that you entirely refuse to accept my offer?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so,” she said. “I’m going to Paris, and then to a little place on the Riviera.”
I resumed my seat rather heavily.
“To Paris?” I said. “But you don’t know the language.”
“Pas trop,” she said, “mais ça suffit. And besides, I shall be staying with Emily Smith.”