"I can't help it," I gulped in my sleeve. "I did use to like Alfred Bennett. My heart almost broke when he went away. I used to be beautiful and slim, and now I feel as if my own fat ghost has come to haunt me all my life. I am so ashamed! If a woman can't cry over her own dead beauty, what can she cry over?" By this time I was really crying.,
"Never, madame, never pour vous. Ravissant, charmant—it is too foolish. Nevair! Jamais, jamais de la vie!" I had to calm her down, and she bowed over my hand when we parted.,
"Tell ole Dido ob de debble-stick.".
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