“Arlette likes you much,” said Andree. “I theenk she fall in love weeth you, and I am jealous—oh, so jealous. You shall send her away. I will not have her. She is bad—bad. She take you away from me.” And then she laughed low, with a charm that found its way to Kendall’s heart. She was so cunning, so full of little humors and tricks of manner, of moods and delightful graces—at one moment grave and wise, at the next playful and gay. One instant she was a woman made wise by sorrow, the next moment she was a child, untouched by anything but joy.... She was wonderful, thought Kendall, there was no one in the world to compare with her.... “We’re going to the Casino de Paris to-night. Coming along?” asked Bert. Kendall turned to Andree. “Shall we?” “No. We shall stay here.” She pointed downward at the floor with a gesture that was peculiarly her own. “I have not seen you for long.... We shall talk of many theengs.” “Keep your dictionary handy, Ken,” jeered Bert. “There are lots of useful words in it.... Comme ça: You take the lady’s hand. ‘_Mademoiselle, vous êtes—_’ Quick the dictionary! Find the first word that fits.... Here it is—look! ‘_Charmante._’ Fine! Thus we have a compliment with only a slight interruption. A compliment doesn’t get cold like a dish of soup. It is still good even if we have to look in the dictionary twice. In the course of an evening we can get through a dozen sentences.... You shall talk of many theengs,” he finished, mimicking Andree. “Monsieur Bert—he does not need to speak,” laughed Madeleine. “He is ver’ fonny. _Écoutez!_ He says, ‘_Je no’ désirez de la potage.’ Oui._ Always. One understands what he is about, but it is awful. But yes.... I cannot teach him. No. Past or present, number, person, it is all one for him. He jus’ make words and expects one to understand.... But when he does not speak at all—then he does much better.” Arlette served the vegetable and the salad, and finally cheese and confiture. “_Abricot_ for Mademoiselle Andree,” she explained, remembering Andree’s preference. Presently they went into the _salon_ where the boys lighted cigarettes. Kendall tendered his case to Andree, who selected one and lighted it daintily. “I thought you didn’t smoke,” he said, with surprise. “Only in the house. Nevaire outside,” she said. Madeleine did not smoke at all. Madeleine began to walk about the room and sing “Madelon,” while Andree looked out of the window and speculated on the characters and peculiarities of the occupants of the apartments across the avenue. The four turned toward the door upon hearing a shuffling and a subdued giggling in the hall. It was Arlette and little Arlette. The child hung back bashfully, while her grandmother shooed her ahead with her apron. “I have brought her to see Mademoiselle Madeleine,” she said. “I have told her, and she desires to see.”