’ ‘Parbleu, it is I who am the idiot?’ she scolded furiously, removing one hand and digging it into her sleeve. She said you HAD some money. "Vell, vell," growled Sharples, after he had listened to the other's remonstrances, "it shall be done. She washed her face with unwonted elaboration before she went to bed. I am certainly no ghost. Well, well; all he himself could do would be to watch this singular drama unroll. She made herself serenely unaware of his existence, though it may be it was his presence that sent her by the field detour instead of by the direct path up the Avenue. He's an interpretative genius, if there ever was one. ‘Parbleu,’ came indignantly from the lady. He was a man who in all things classified without nuance, and for him there were in the matter of age just two feminine classes and no more—girls and women.
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