In his eyes Fromont jeune was the absolute master of the establishment.

It would have been a fine thing, and no mistake, for him, an ex-draughtsman, to venture to make any comments.

The cashier dared say no more until the day when a messenger came from a great shawl-house with a bill for six thousand francs for a cashmere shawl.
He went to Georges in his office.
"Shall I pay it, Monsieur ?" Georges Fromont was a little annoyed.

Sidonie had forgotten to tell him of this latest purchase; she used no ceremony with him now.
"Pay it, pay it, Pere Planus," he said, with a shade of embarrassment, and added: "Charge it to the account of Fromont jeune.

It is a commission intrusted to me by a friend." That evening, as Sigismond was lighting his little lamp, he saw Risler crossing the garden, and tapped on the window to call him.
"It's a woman," he said, under his breath.