he music, music, which they talk always there. People talk
too much shops in these days. It is out-to-place and done over."

"Do you mean overdone?" asked Mr. Gilman mildly.

"Well, overdone, if you like better that."

"Do you mean shop, Hortense?" asked Mr. Gilman further.

"Shop, shop! The English is impossible!"

The automobile crossed the Seine and arrived in the deserted Quai Voltaire.

CHAPTER XIX

THE BOUDOIR

In the setting of her own boudoir Madame Piriac equalled, and in some ways
surpassed, the finest pictures which Audrey had imagined of her. Her
evening dress made Audrey doubt whether after all her own was the genuine
triumph which she had supposed; in Madame Piriac's boudoir, and close by
Madame Piriac, it had disconcertingly the air of being an ingenious but
unconvincing imitation of the real thing.

But Madame Piriac's dress had the advantage of being worn with the highest
skill and assurance; Madame Piriac knew what the least fold of her dress
was doing, in the way of effect, on the floor behind her back. And Madame
Piriac was mistress, not only of her dress, but of herself and all her
faculties. A handsome woman, rather more than slim, but not plump, she had
an expression of confidence, of knowing exactly what she was about, of
foreseeing all her effects, which Audrey envied more than she had ever
envied anything.

As soon as Audrey came into the room she had said to herself: "I will have
a boudoir like this." It was an interior in which every piece of furniture
was loaded with objects personal to its owner. So many signed photographs,
so much remarkable bric-a-brac, so many intimate contrivances of ornamental
comfort, Audrey had never before seen within four walls. The chandelier,
comprising ten thousand crystals, sparkled down upon a complex aggregate of
richness overwhelming to everybody except Madame Piriac, who subdued it,
understood it, and had the key to it. Audrey wondered how many servants
took how many hours to dust the room. She was sure, however, that whatever
the number of servants required, Madame Piriac managed them all to
perfection. She longed violently to be as old as Madame Piriac, whom she
assessed at twenty-nine and a half, and to be French, and to know all about
everything in life as Madame Piriac did. Yet at the same time she was
extremely determined to be Audrey, and not to be intimidated by Madame
Piriac or by anyone.

Just as they were beginning to suck iced