The clock in the bureau struck four. Aristide pulled out his watch.
“Saperlipopette!” he cried, and disappeared like a flash into the street.
“But what’s the matter with him?” shouted Bocardon, in amazement.
Zette went to the door. “He’s running as if he had the devil at his heels.”
“Was he always like that?” asked her husband.
“How always?”
“Parbleu! When you used to see him at your Aunt Léonie’s.”
Zette flushed red. To repudiate the saviour of her entire family were an act of treachery too black for her ingenuous heart.
“Ah, yes,” she replied, calmly, coming back into the hall. “We used to call him Cousin Quicksilver.”
In the big avenue Aristide hailed a passing cab.