Between the sound of the bell and the opening of the door ten seconds did not elapse. Such promptness and the sight of Annette's delighted eyes were enough to tell Sylvie that she was expected. They were already kissing each other, standing on the door-sill, before a word was said. Then Annette impetuously dragged Sylvie through the house, without letting go of her hands, devouring her with her eyes, and laughing foolishly to herself like a happy child. . . . And nothing happened as she had anticipated. Not one of the prepared phrases of welcome served. She did not seat Sylvie in the chosen place. Turning their backs to the window, they both sat on the divan, side by side, gazing into each other's eyes, speaking without listening; their expressions said: Annette: "At last! You are really here?" Sylvie: "You see, I've come. . . ." But Sylvie, having examined Annette, said: "You were going out?" Annette shook her head without wishing to explain. Sylvie understood perfectly and, leaning over, she whispered: "You were coming to my place?" Annette started and, resting her cheek on her sister's shoulder, she murmured: "Bad girl!" "Why?" demanded Sylvie, kissing Annette's fair eyebrows with the corner of her mouth. Annette did not reply. Sylvie knew the answer. She smiled, peeking maliciously at Annette who was now avoiding her glance. The violent girl! Her spirit was broken. A sudden timidity had fallen upon her, like a net. They sat without stirring, the big sister leaning on the shoulder of the little one, who was satisfied at having so promptly established her power. . . . Then Annette raised her head and, both mistresses of their first emotion, they began to talk like old friends.