It was after supper that night, and Marie Castener was emptying the last of the coffee into Manon’s cup, when they heard a man’s footsteps outside the door. He knocked and tried the handle, but the door was bolted. Veuve Castener thought it was Etienne, for Etienne never used his voice when some more primitive sort of sound would serve. Marie went to the door and opened it, and discovered Louis Blanc.
Veuve Castener’s big body filled the doorway. She said nothing. Her bulk and her silence kept Bibi on the doorstep.
“Good evening, madame.”
He had looked over Marie’s shoulder and seen Manon sitting at the table in the yellow circle of light thrown by the lamp.
“Good evening, Madame Latour.”
Bibi pushed the words past Veuve Castener, since her big body kept him out of the room.
Manon looked up.
“Good evening, Monsieur Blanc.”
She replied to him with an air of complete unconcern, betraying neither interest nor antagonism.
Bibi scraped his boots on the doorstep and removed his hat. You might take liberties when you were alone with one woman, but you were polite when there happened to be two of them.