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In the Quarter
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``What, Yvonne?''
``I want to tell you a secret.''
``What, Yvonne?''
``If you eat so many sardines – ''
``Oh!'' cried Gethryn, half angrily, but laughing, ``you must pay for that!''
``What?'' she said, innocently, but jumped up and kept the table between him and herself.
``You know!'' he cried, chasing her into a corner.
``We are two babies,'' she said, very red, following him back to the table. The paté was eaten in comparative quiet.
``Now,'' she said, with great dignity, setting down her glass, ``behave and get me some hot water.''
Gethryn meekly brought it.
``If you touch me while I am washing these dishes!''
``But let me help?''
``No, go and sit down instantly.''
He fled in affected terror and ensconced himself upon the sofa. Presently he inquired, in a plaintive voice: ``Have you nearly finished?''
``No,'' said the girl, carefully drying and arranging the quaint Egyptian tea-set, ``and I won't for ages.''
``But you're not going to wash all those things? The concierge does that.''
``No, only the wine-glasses and the tea-set. The idea of trusting such fragile cups to a concierge! What a boy!''
But she was soon ready to dry her slender hands, and caught up a towel with a demure glance at Gethryn.
``Which do you think most of – your dogs, or me?''
``Pups.''
``That parrot, or me?''
``Poll.''
``The raven, or me? The cat, or me?''
``Bird and puss.''
She stole over to his side and knelt down.
``Rex, if you ever tire of me – if you ever are unkind – if you ever leave me – I think I shall die.''
He drew her to him. ``Yvonne,'' he whispered, ``we can't always be together.''
``I know it – I'm foolish,'' she faltered.
``I shall not always be a student. I shall not always be in Paris, dear Yvonne.''
She leaned closer to him.
``I must go back to America someday.''
``And – and marry?'' she whispered, chokingly.
``No – not to marry,'' he said, ``but it is my home.''
``I – I know it, Rex, but don't let us think of it. Rex,'' she said, some moments after, ``are you like all students?''
``How do you mean?''
``Have you ever loved – before – a girl, here in Paris – like me?''
``There are none – like you.''
``Answer me, Rex.''
``No, I never have,'' he said, truthfully. Presently he added, ``And you, Yvonne?''
She put her warm little hand across his mouth.
``Don't ask,'' she murmured.
``But I do!'' he cried, struggling to see her eyes, ``won't you tell me?''
She hid her face tight against his breast.
``You know I have; that is why I am alone here, in Paris.''
``You loved him?''
``Yes – not as I love you.''
Presently she raised her eyes to his.
``Shall I tell you all? I am like so many – so many others. When you know their story, you know mine.''
He leaned down and kissed her.
``Don't tell me,'' he said.
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Книга дельная. Без воды, приводятся реальные кейсы и способы их разрешения. Много практичных полезных советов и методик. Кое-что уже испробовала в дел...
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