'_Mais si, je vous aime, Monsieur Warren,_' she cried, laughing, '_Je
vous aime tous, tous._'

She ran downstairs, amid the shouts of men and women, to give her orders.

'The other day the Chien Noir was the scene of a tragedy,' said Susie.
'Marie broke off relations with her lover, who is a waiter at Lavenue's,
and would have no reconciliation. He waited till he had a free evening,
and then came to the room downstairs and ordered dinner. Of course, she
was obliged to wait on him, and as she brought him each dish he
expostulated with her, and they mingled their tears.'

'She wept in floods,' interrupted a youth with neatly brushed hair and
fat nose. 'She wept all over our food, and we ate it salt with tears. We
besought her not to yield; except for our encouragement she would have
gone back to him; and he beats her.'

Marie appeared again, with no signs now that so short a while ago romance
had played a game with her, and brought the dishes that had been ordered.
Susie seized once more upon Arthur Burdon's attention.

'Now please look at the man who is sitting next to Mr Warren.'

Arthur saw a tall, dark fellow with strongly-marked features, untidy
hair, and a ragged black moustache.

'That is Mr O'Brien, who is an example of the fact that strength of will
and an earnest purpose cannot make a painter. He's a failure, and he
knows it, and the bitterness has warped his soul. If you listen to him,