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Now Myra Nell's appetite was a most ungovernable affair, and when she realized that her complete happiness depended upon a certain bouillabaisse, in the preparation of which Madame la Branche's Julia had become famous, she whisked her hair into a knot, jammed her best and largest hat over its unruly confusion, and went bouncing away in the direction of Esplanade Street.
Vittoria and the guard both began to speak at once, and at length she broke into laughter, saying: "Poor Mr. Blake, I fear he has been exposed to contagion. It was necessary for him to talk with me on a matter of importance, and now this man tells him he cannot leave." But from Papa La Branche's expression it was evident that he saw nothing humorous in the situation. "To talk with you!
Once inside, he could perhaps set himself right; but for the present no explanations were possible. He might have braved the Board of Health, but he could not run away from Papa La Branche's accusing eye. Bowing gravely, he said: "You are quite right, sir, and I thank you for your hospitality. If you will lead the way, I will follow"
Madame la Branche's best black shawl was drawn about her plump and dimpled shoulders. Assuming a hollow tone, she inquired: "Do you see any other change in me?" "Yes. And I rather like that way of doing your hair." "Vittoria says I look like a picture of Sister Dolorosa, or something." "Is Miss Fabrizi in?" "In? How could she be out? Isn't she a dear, Norvin? I knew you'd meet some day."
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