up a side street? And I would have risked it for you--I know how you
incline to fashion. When I have taken you to a theatre, did you choose
the Montmartre--where we might have gone for nothing--or the Moncey?
Not you!--that might do for other girls. _You_ have always
demanded the theatres of the Grand Boulevard; a cup of coffee at the
Cafe de la Paix is more to your taste than a bottle of beer and
hard-boiled eggs at The Nimble Rabbit. Heaven knows I trust you will be
happy, but I cannot persuade myself that this Pomponnet shares your
ambitions; with his slum and his stale pastry he is quite content."

"It is not stale," she said.

"Well, we will pass his pastry--though, word of honour, I bought some
there last week that might have been baked before the Commune; but to
recur to his soul, is it an affinity?"

"Affinities are always hard up," she pouted.

"Zut!" exclaimed Touquet; "now your mind is running on that monsieur
Tricotrin--by 'affinities' I do not mean hungry poets. Why not have
entrusted your happiness to _me_? I adore you, I have told you a
thousand times that I adore you. Lisette, consider before it is too
late! You cannot love this--this obscure baker?"

She gave a shrug. "It is a fact that devotion has not robbed me of my
appetite," she confessed. "But what would you have? His business goes
far better than you imagine--I have seen his books; and anyhow, my
sentiment for you is friendship, and no more."

"To the devil with friendship!" cried the unhappy wardrobe-dealer; "did