The proprietress dipped the pen in the inkpot: "Mademoiselle goes to the Maison Séverin, n'est ce pas?" "What?" cried Pariset. "The Maison Séverin? It is at the Maison Séverin you have taken a flat, mademoiselle? Why, that is my address, too! What storey are you on?" "The fourth." "And I! Listen, an idea, a compromise. If you would be so generous, might you not lend her to me now and then?" "But everything arranges itself," repeated the fat woman, joyously. "Mademoiselle and monsieur can share her to perfection. Marceline, you would render service in two little appartements on the same floor?" "That is worth more money," said Marceline; and proceeded to estimate the suggestion at a monstrous figure. However, her views were modified at last. The fat woman made entries in a tattered book. Suzanne heard the gentleman give his name as "monsieur Henri Pariset." Pariset did not hear the lady give her name, because the proprietress, of course, knew it already. Far from suspecting each other's identity, the Challenger and the Challenged exchanged cheerful smiles. Then Marceline was prevailed upon to fetch her box forthwith, and the elated journalist and the charming girl who thirsted for his blood bore their domestic gaily to the rue Baba together. "How things happen!" said Pariset, as they went along. "N'est ce pas?" said she. "All the same, my flat cannot be got ready by the morning now." "I don't see why not; my own share of her this evening will be slight. Let her put my babies to bed at once, and then you can have all you want of her. As to my dinner, I will eat at a restaurant." "Ah, mais non, if it is not your custom!" said Suzanne. "She can manage your dinner all right--she will have no cooking to do for me. I am at a pension de famille till to-morrow." And as they reached the house, the concierge remarked, by way of welcome: "It is not unfortunate that you have returned, monsieur. Your twins have been disturbing the whole district." "But they are adorable, your twins!" exclaimed Suzanne, with genuine admiration, for now they were tranquil and beamed. "I cannot pretend to know whether they are big or small for four years old, but they are darlings." "Not bad," said Pariset, who thought the world of them himself. "Well, then, when Marceline has tucked them up she shall come to you straightway, and it is agreed that you are to monopolise her as long as you like." Half an hour passed. "Monsieur!" cried Marceline, reappearing. "Eh, bien--you cannot find the children's night-gowns?" "Si, si. The little ones sleep. But the compliments of mademoiselle, and would monsieur be so amiable as to lend her the feather-brush from his broom-cupboard?" "Take all she wants. How goes it opposite?" "There is enough for two persons to do!" "I don't doubt it," said Pariset. "Inquire of mademoiselle whether I can be of any assistance." But on second thoughts he was prompted to put the question himself.