My pen hovered uncertainly over the paper. I could not
exactly give words to the impression in my brain, and the sense that
he was going to speak, about to speak each second, worried me. At
the same time I never wished to be ungracious to Howard when he did
return to our rooms; never wished to feel it was my execrably bad
company that induced him to stay away from them all night instead of
half.
"I say, Vic!"
"Well?"
"Do you know that kissing song Embrasse moi?"
I nodded.
"Don't you think it awfully fetching? I like that refrain so much--
Embrasse moi, chumph! chumph!--and then the orchestra exactly
imitates the sound of a kiss--then Encore une fois!! chumph! chumph!
Don't you?"
"Yes; it isn't bad."
Silence.
"Victor!"
"What?"
"La Faina was there to-night!"
"Oh!"
"Do you know her?"
"I've heard of her."
Silence.
"Vic!"
"Yes?"
"Do you know what Faina means?"
"Of course I do!"
"Do you think it a nice name?"
"Not particularly."
"Well, it's better than Grille d'Egout anyway, isn't it?"
"About on a par, I should say." "How many frills do you think she
had on her petticoat?"
"Oh, I don't know--forty!"
"No; four. I counted them. Her figure is not much up atop, but
her"--
"Oh, stow all that!" I interrupted; "there's a good fellow, I'm just
doing a convent interior.
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