I told her that most of them were not worth telling." The distinguished journalist leaning on his elbow, his head resting against the knuckles of his left hand, listened with great attention, but gave no sign of that surprise which Renouard, pausing, seemed to expect.
"You know something," the latter said brusquely.

The all-knowing man moved his head slightly and said, "Yes.

But go on." "It's just this.

There is no more to it.

I found myself talking to her of my adventures, of my early days.