ry day with the English papers,
and looked in to leave me the _Mirror_, for which he would never accept
any payment. He had very few teeth and talked in an indistinct sort of
patois and insisted on holding long conversations in consequence! He
told me he would be _enchante_ to bring me some novels _bien choisis par
ma femme_ (well chosen by my wife) one day, and in due course they
arrived--the 1 franc 25 edition.

The names in most cases were enough, and the pictures in some a little
more! If they were his wife's idea of suitable books for _jeunes filles_
I wondered vaguely with what exactly the grown-ups diverted themselves!
I had not the heart to tell him I never read them.

All the French people were extraordinarily kind and often came in to see
me. They never failed to bring a present of some sort either.
Mademoiselle Marguerite, the dear fat old lady who kept the flower shop
in the Rue, always brought some of her flowers, and looking round would
declare that I was trying to run an opposition to her! Madame from the
_Pharmacie_ came with a large bottle of scent, the little dressmaker
brought some lace. Monsieur and Madame from the "Omelette Shop" (a
popular resort of the F.A.N.Y.s) arrived very hot and smart one Sunday
afternoon. Monsieur, who was fat, with large rolls at the back of his
neck, was rather ill at ease and a little panting from the walk
upstairs. He had the air of a man trying to appear as if he were
somewhere else. He tiptoed carefully to the window and had a look at the
_plage_. "The bonhomme wished to come and assure himself which of the
_demoiselles anglaises_ it was, to whom had arrived so terrible a
thing," said Madame, "but me, I knew. Is it not so, Henri?" she cried to
her husband. "I said it was this one there," and she pointed
triumphantly to me. As they were going he produced a large bottle of
Burgundy from a voluminous pocket in his coat tails. "Ha! _le
bonhomme!_" cried the incorrigible wife, "he would first see which
demoiselle it was before he presented the bottle!" Hubby appeared to be
slightly discomfited at this and beat a hasty retreat.

And one day "Alice," whose baby I had doctored, arrived, and even she,
difficult as she found it to make both ends meet, had not come without
something. As she left she produced a little packet of lace wrapped in
newspaper, which she deposited on my bed with tears in her eyes.

I used to lie awake at nights and wonder about those artificial legs,