“Of course I remember her. She was tall, fair-haired, and spoke English extremely well,” I said.
“The same. Well, she has married the son of Tanchot, the banker, of Antwerp—an excellent match.”
“And the Countess and Yolande, what news of them?”
“They are in Paris, are they not?”
“No, they left suddenly some days ago.”
“Well, they are not to be blamed,” he said, smiling. “No one stays in Paris during this heat if they can possibly avoid it. Yolande told me she was going to Marienbad.”
“She told me so, too. But they have altered their plans, it seems.”
“Oh! So you have met again?” he cried, opening his eyes widely. “I thought your friendship had ended long ago?”
“So it had.”
“Then it has been resumed?”