sous' worth of Gruyere cheese to be served them. Her mother having
died, her father himself had begun to lead rather a gay life, in such
wise that the whole of the grocery stores--tea, coffee, dried
vegetables, and jars and drawers of sweetstuff--were gradually
devoured. Irma was still going to school, when, one day, the place was
sold up. Her father died of a fit of apoplexy, and Irma sought refuge
with a poor aunt, who gave her more kicks than halfpence, with the
result that she ended by running away, and taking her flight through
all the dancing-places of Montmartre and Batignolles.

Claude listened to the story with his usual air of contempt for women.
Suddenly, however, as the gentleman rose and went out after whispering
in her ear, Irma Becot, after watching him disappear, bounded from her
seat with the impulsiveness of a school girl, in order to join
Fagerolles, beside whom she made herself quite at home, giving him a
smacking kiss, and drinking out of his glass. And she smiled at the
others in a very engaging manner, for she was partial to artists, and
regretted that they were generally so miserably poor. As Jory was
smoking, she took his cigarette out of his mouth and set it in her
own, but without pausing in her chatter, which suggested that of a
saucy magpie.

'You are all painters, aren't you? How amusing! But why do those three
look as if they were sulking. Just laugh a bit, or I shall make you,
you'll see!'

As a matter of fact, Sandoz, Claude, and Mahoudeau, quite taken aback,
were watching her most gravely. She herself remained listening, and,
on hearing her companion come back, she hastily gave Fagerolles an
appointment for the morrow. Then, after replacing the cigarette