Bibi smiled, and began to walk up and down again, and Manon noticed that his track tended to become an orbit, with herself as the centre. Sometimes he was behind her, and she did not like having Bibi behind her, but she remained quite still in her chair, though tense as a steel spring.
“I am going to make money in Beaucourt. A little hotel—what! well advertised for the people with handkerchiefs and the fools of Americans! Kept by one of the veterans of Verdun, with the Médaille Militaire! Allons! That’s all right. What do you say?”
Manon went on with her work, conscious of Bibi standing there close beside her.
“I think many things, monsieur.”
“Let’s have them.”
“You want my house. It is in better condition than yours, is it not?”
“Tiens! What cleverness!”
“You would like to have your own way in Beaucourt, not an hotel or a café within twenty kilomètres.”
“Go on guessing, ma petite.”
“That is all, monsieur.”