’ ‘Dieu du ciel,’ burst from mademoiselle as she jumped up. “My wife refused absolutely to have anything more to do with me. “We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. Perhaps you'll give me in return some token, by which I may remind you of this occurrence, in case we meet again. Soup would help you feel better, soup and hot tea. “That young man was giving a luncheon party to a dozen friends at the Café de Paris to-day. "Take my life, if you're so disposed. " "That he is," added Blueskin, approvingly.
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