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"May the Lord deliver us from a Germanized Paris!" Kendricks prayed. "They may have the Ritz, if they will, and the Elysees Palace. They may have all the halls of fashion and gilt and wealth. They may swamp the Pre Catelan and the Armenonville, so long as they leave us the real Paris. Come, we take our coffee here. This is a German cafe, if you like.
March and Fulkerson retrenched at several points where it had seemed indispensable to spend, as long as they were not spending their own: that was only human. Fulkerson absorbed Conrad's department into his, and March found that he could dispense with Kendricks in the place of assistant which he had lately filled since Fulkerson had decided that March was overworked.
"I think that Herr Freudenberg, as he calls himself, would be too clever for me if I tried anything of that sort. You see, I have put this revolver into my pocket. I am going to avoid the lonely places, and have Kendricks with me as much as possible." She nodded. "Take care of yourself," she advised, in a matter-of-fact tone, as they turned into the street where Mademoiselle Rignaut lived.
"Bring my things to Charing-Cross at half-past eight. Have them registered only to Boulogne. You understand?" "Perfectly, sir," the man replied. Julien glanced once more around his sitting-room. The little bunch of violets was smouldering upon the hearth. In a sense they seemed to him symbolical. "Kendricks is right," he muttered. "It is the women who play the devil with our lives!"
But in the larger interest of the present situation, Mrs. March seemed to have lost the sense of my dereliction in this respect. She merely asked, "And it was after you went back to the parlour, just before you came home, that you wrote those names on her card?" "Kendricks wrote half of them," I said. "I dare say.
But this simple and appealing situation this beautiful young girl, with her poor little illusions, her secret hopes half hidden from herself, her ignorant past, her visionary future " "Now, I am going to tell you all about her, Mr. Kendricks," Mrs.
"Ah," he breathed again. "And if he were successful in selling his writings, how much would he probably make in a year?" "In a year?" I repeated, to gain time. "Mr. Kendricks is comparatively a beginner. Say fifteen hundred two thousand twenty-five hundred." "And that would not go very far in New York." "No; that would not go far in New York."
Kendricks, however, had no such restrictions upon him, and I could see him start with delight in the splendid vision before he spoke. "ISN'T it a poem?" demanded Mrs. March. "Isn't it a perfect LYRIC?" "Why should you have allowed her to be transported altogether into the ideal?
If you are very, very good, perhaps I may let you see her this evening. We will take you to call upon her." "Is it possible? Do you mean business? Then she is in society?" "MR. Kendricks!" cried Mrs. March, with burlesque severity. "Do you think that I would offer you a heroine who was NOT in society? You forget that I am from Boston!" "Of course, of course!
Gage, with no uncommon show of ill-will, but with merely a natural dryness, suffered Kendricks to be presented to him, and entered upon some preliminary banalities with him, such as he had used in opening a conversation with me. Before these came to a close Mrs. March had thought it well to leave the three together.
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