see the name of the book.

"Oh yes," said Miss Cotton. "But he's so terribly pessimistic, don't you
think?"

"What is it?" asked Mrs. Brinkley.

"Fumee," said Mrs. Pasmer, laying the book title upward on her lap for
every one to see.

"Oh yes," said Mrs. Brinkley, fanning herself. "Tourguenief. That man
gave me the worst quarter of an hour with his 'Lisa' that I ever had."

"That's the same as the 'Nichee des Gentilshommes', isn't it?" asked Mrs.
Pasmer, with the involuntary superiority of a woman who reads her
Tourguenief in French.

"I don't know. I had it in English. I don't build my ships to cross the
sea in, as Emerson says; I take those I find built."

"Ah! I was already on the other side," said Mrs. Pasmer softly. She
added: "I must get Lisa. I like a good heart-break; don't you? If that's
what gave you the bad moment."

"Heart-break? Heart-crush! Where Lavretsky comes back old to the scene of
his love for Lisa, and strikes that chord on the piano--well, I simply
wonder that I'm alive to recommend the book to you.

"Do you know," said Miss Cotton, very deferentially, "that your daughter
always made me think of Lisa?"