"Why not, Marie-Louise?"
"He isn't her kind. He ought to have fallen in love with you."
"Marie-Louise, I told you not to talk of love."
"I shall talk of anything I please."
"Then you'll talk to the empty air. I won't listen. I'll go up there and sit with that fat man in front."
Marie-Louise laughed. "You're such an old dear. Do you know how nice you look in those furs?"
"I feel so elegant that I am ashamed of myself. I've peeped into every mirror. They cost a whole month's salary, Marie-Louise. I feel horribly extravagant—and happy."
They laughed together, and it was then that Marie-Louise said, "I love it."
"Love what?"
"Going with you and being young."