frock coat. Paragot and a cigarette-case!
Once more it was _abracadabrant_! He also refused cognac with his
coffee.

After a time, still feeling that I was very young, and that my seniors
might have further confidential things to say to each other, I rose to
take my leave. Paragot rose too.

"I would ask you to stay, Gaston, if I hadn't my wretched lawyer to see
this afternoon. But you'll come in for an hour after dinner, won't you?
No one knows I'm in Paris. Besides, at this time of year there is no one
in Paris to know."

"Willingly," said Paragot, "but _les convenances_----"

Joanna's pretty lips parted in astonishment.

"You--preaching the proprieties?--My dear Gaston!"

I turned to the window and looked at the Tuileries Gardens which baked
in the afternoon sun. The two spoke a little in low voices, but I could
not help overhearing.

"Is it true, Gaston, that you have wanted me all these years?"

"I want you as much now as I did then."

"I, too," whispered Joanna.

CHAPTER XVI

AS we emerged from the Hotel Meurice I turned instinctively to the left.
Paragot drew me to the right.

"Henceforward," said he, "I resume the Paris which is my birthright. We
will forget for a moment that there are such places as the Boulevard
Saint-Michel and the Rue des Saladiers."

We walked along the Rue de Rivoli and taking the Rue Royale passed the
Madeleine and arrived at the Cafe de la Paix. It was a broiling
afternoon. The cool terrace of the cafe invited the hot wayfarer to
repose.

"Master," said I, "isn't it almost time for your absinthe?"

He raised his lemon kids as if he would ban the place.

"My little Asticot, I have abjured absinthe and forsworn cafes. I have
broken my new porcelain pipe and have cut my finger-nails. As I enter on
the path of happiness, I scatter the dregs and shreds and clippings of
the past behind me. I divest myself of all the crapulous years."

If he had divested himself of the superfluous trappings of
respectability beneath which he was perspiring freely, I thought he
would have been happier. The sight of the umbrella alone made one feel
moist, to say nothing of the spats.

"We might have some grenadine syrup," I suggested ironically.

"Willingly," said he.

So we sat and drank grenadine syrup and water. He gave me the impression
of a cropped lion sucking lollipops.

"It is peculiarly nasty and unsatisfying," he remarked after a sip, "but
doubtless I shall get used