I ventured to step up to the brisk little concierge in the court one day, and ask who was the tall gentleman with the tarnished lace who had just entered?
"It is un Monsieur Very," said the concierge.
"And poor Monsieur Very lives alone?" said I.
"How should I know, monsieur?"
"He always walks alone," said I.
"It is true," said the concierge.
"He has children, perhaps?" said I.
"Très probable," said the concierge.
He was little disposed to be communicative, yet I determined to make another trial.
"You have very pretty lodgers," said I.