"I give her then some good advice,"--Fantine was enjoying her story, the topaz eyes keen and bright, lips curved in a mocking smile. "I say: 'You are a good woman, with babies, per'aps, and a linen press. But that is not all a man wants. Learn to talk ... and walk ... an' dress! Marriage--what is it? A legal tie. But a clever wife must _charm_ to hold ... You catch my point?--I am ver' glad. I could teach you ... yes, many things. But my cab waits--Adieu, Madame!'" ... "Good Lord!--So you went. And then?" Fantine made a wry grimace. "I became companion to a lady. (Of men, you see, I had had enough!) Also rich, mais une femme du peuple! Archie gave me a written reference. His uncle is a baronet and that was quite sufficient to her. I learned there how to wash a dog and make petticoats for the poor. Not flannel--you understan'?--but flannelette--most dangerous--but good enough for _Charity_! (McTaggart chuckled, watching her.) And what a 'real lady' could do and what a 'real lady' could not! "It's a ... sale metier!--to my mind--hardly as moral as the other--so uncharitable"--she frowned. "Have you ever lived in the suburbs?--No?--Then don't, my dear Pierrot. It's to ... exist in hourly fear of gossip, one eye on each neighbour. To call and flatter, peer and pry and pick their characters to ribbons. What a life!" she shrugged her shoulders. "One of my duties was to teach my new employer a little French. That amused me enormously! She was as stupid as a goose--so I stuffed her"--Fantine laughed--"with some good spicy words. When she travels to Paris, mon Dieu!--she will surprise the chambermaid! Unluckily"--she ran on--"there was a nephew." Her cough stopped her. She battled with it for a moment, caught her breath and smiled bravely. "Un horreur de petit bonhomme!--dressed like a little groom. 'Tres sporting.' That is chic in the suburbs--always gaiters, pique necktie and no horse! You know the type, hein, Pierrot? "'Bertie'--that was the youth's name--took a fancy to poor me!--Condescended to express it--even helped to wash the dog. That was fun--he _did_ get wet!" She laughed at the recollection. "Then, one day, Madame guessed. Actually she accused me of a wish to marry him!" Up went Fantine's hands in horror. "Moi, Fantine!" McTaggart roared.