saw Mme Gabin come in carrying a cup; she
wished to buy a penny-worth of coffee. Standing in front of the counter,
she began to gossip with the landlady of the establishment.

"Well," asked the latter, "so the poor little woman of the third floor
has made up her mind at last, eh?"

"How could she help herself?" answered Mme Gabin. "It was the very best
thing for her to do. Monsieur Simoneau showed her so much kindness. You
see, he had finished his business in Paris to his satisfaction, for he
has inherited a pot of money. Well, he offered to take her away with him
to his own part of the country and place her with an aunt of his, who
wants a housekeeper and companion."

The landlady laughed archly. I buried my face in a newspaper which I
picked off the table. My lips were white and my hands shook.

"It will end in a marriage, of course," resumed Mme Gabin. "The little
widow mourned for her husband very properly, and the young man was
extremely well behaved. Well, they left last night--and, after all, they
were free to please themselves."

Just then the side door of the restaurant, communicating with the
passage of the house, opened, and Dede appeared.

"Mother, ain't you coming?" she cried. "I'm waiting, you know; do be
quick."

"Presently," said the mother testily. "Don't bother."

The girl stood listening to the two women with the precocious shrewdness
of a child born and reared amid the streets of Paris.

"When all is said and done," explained Mme Gabin, "the dear departed did
not come up to Monsieur Simoneau. I didn't fancy him overmuch; he was
a puny sort of a man, a poor, fretful fellow, and he hadn't a penny to
bless himself with. No, candidly, he wasn't the kind of husband for a
young and healthy wife, whereas Monsieur Simoneau is rich, you know, and
as strong as a Turk."

"Oh yes!" interrupted Dede. "I saw him once when he was washing--his
door was open. His arms are so hairy!"

"Get along with you," screamed the old woman, shoving the girl out
of the restaurant. "You are always poking your nose where it has no
business to be."

Then she concluded with these words: "Look here, to my mind the other
one did quite right to take himself off. It was fine luck for the little
woman!"

When I found myself in the street again I walked along slowly with
trembling limbs. And yet I was not suffering much; I think I smiled once
at my shadow in the sun. It was quite true. I WAS very puny. It had been
a queer