“It would be better, dearie, to give up your expedition at once.” “No, be quick about it,” said Mme Lerat, shuffling the cards. “I shall take the half-past four o’clock train if you’re back here with the money before four o’clock.” “Oh, there’ll be no time lost,” she murmured. Ten minutes after Zoé helped her on with a dress and a hat. It didn’t matter much if she were badly turned out. Just as she was about to go downstairs there was a new ring at the bell. This time it was the charcoal dealer. Very well, he might keep the livery-stable keeper company—it would amuse the fellows. Only, as she dreaded a scene, she crossed the kitchen and made her escape by the back stairs. She often went that way and in return had only to lift up her flounces. “When one is a good mother anything’s excusable,” said Mme Maloir sententiously when left alone with Mme Lerat. “Four kings,” replied this lady, whom the play greatly excited. And they both plunged into an interminable game. The table had not been cleared. The smell of lunch and the cigarette smoke filled the room with an ambient, steamy vapor. The two ladies had again set to work dipping lumps of sugar in brandy and sucking the same. For twenty minutes at least they played and sucked simultaneously when, the electric bell having rung a third time, Zoé bustled into the room and roughly disturbed them, just as if they had been her own friends. “Look here, that’s another ring. You can’t stay where you are. If many folks call I must have the whole flat. Now off you go, off you go!” Mme Maloir was for finishing the game, but Zoé looked as if she was going to pounce down on the cards, and so she decided to carry them off without in any way altering their positions, while Mme Lerat undertook the removal of the brandy bottle, the glasses and the sugar. Then they both scudded to the kitchen, where they installed themselves at the table in an empty space between the dishcloths, which were spread out to dry, and the bowl still full of dishwater. “We said it was three hundred and forty. It’s your turn.” “I play hearts.” When Zoé returned she found them once again absorbed. After a silence, as Mme Lerat was shuffling, Mme Maloir asked who it was. “Oh, nobody to speak of,” replied the servant carelessly; “a slip of a lad! I wanted to send him away again, but he’s such a pretty boy with never a hair on his chin and blue eyes and a girl’s face! So I told him to wait after all. He’s got an enormous bouquet in his hand, which he never once consented to put down. One would like to catch him one—a brat like that who ought to be at school still!” Mme Lerat went to fetch a water bottle to mix herself some brandy and water, the lumps of sugar having rendered her thirsty. Zoé muttered something to the effect that she really didn’t mind if she drank something too. Her mouth, she averred, was as bitter as gall. “So you put him—?” continued Mme Maloir.