“As soon as possible, but don’t be impatient, as hurried action means certain failure.”
“All right,” she replied boldly, removing the cigarette from her lips, and contemplating it. “You can keep your fatherly advice for somebody else,” she added, grinning across the table at Rouillier.
Tossing the cigarette into the grate, she rose.
“What, are you going so soon?” asked the younger homme de faciende.
“Yes, it’s late; and, besides, I can’t go straight home in such a get-up as this.”
Cramming on her battered hat, she pulled it over her forehead, and then struck an attitude so comic that neither of the men could refrain from laughing. When they grew serious again, she said—
“Now, one word; shall I have the money? I think we understand one another sufficiently to agree that it is imperative, don’t we?”
Victor Bérard nodded an affirmative. He had decided. “You will promise me?”
“Yes, you shall have it, notwithstanding the risks,” he replied. “Of course, the latter are very great, but I think if we carry out our plans boldly, it will be all right.”
“Bien,” she said in a satisfied tone. “And now you can both come out with me, and have the pleasure of regaling me with a glass of wine; for,” she added, with a little mock curtsey, “I feel faint after all this exertion.”