“What? For me!—for me!”
The two friends tore themselves away from the effusive display of gratitude which he made, and went off to lunch together at the Café Tabourey, in front of the Luxembourg.
While cutting up the beefsteak, Hussonnet informed his companion that he did work for the fashion journals, and manufactured catchwords for L’Art Industriel.
“At Jacques Arnoux’s establishment?” said Frederick.
“Do you know him?”
“Yes!—no!—that is to say, I have seen him—I have met him.”
He carelessly asked Hussonnet if he sometimes saw Arnoux’s wife.
“From time to time,” the Bohemian replied.
Frederick did not venture to follow up his enquiries. This man henceforth would fill up a large space in his life. He paid the lunch-bill without any protest on the other’s part.
There was a bond of
