pawnbroker's. Her features are pretty--or "pretty well"; her costume
has been made by herself, but it is not bad; and she has chic--above
all she has chic. He asks:

"What can I have the pleasure to do for you?"

Remark that she is bohemian, and he also.

The conversation was like this:

"Monsieur, three times this morning I have seen you. It was impossible
that I resist speaking. You have grief?"

"Frightful!" he said.

"Perhaps," she added timidly, "you have hunger also?"

"A hunger insupportable, mademoiselle!"

"I myself am extremely hard up, monsieur, but will you permit that I
offer you what I can?"

"Angel!" the young man exclaimed. "There must be wings under your coat.
But I beg of you not to fly yet. I shall tell you the reason of my
grief. If you will do me the honour to seat yourself at the cafe
opposite, we shall be able to talk more pleasantly."

This appeared strange enough, this invitation from a young man who she
had supposed was starving; but wait a little! Her amazement increased
when, to pay for the wine he had ordered, her companion threw on to the