She broke off and took breath, and then in a low voice: "Oh, I'm a wreck! Do help me sit up a bit.

I keep slipping down, and my head's too low." When he had helped her she sighed and felt more comfortable.

And with that she harked back to the subject.

What a pretty sight a divorce suit would be! Couldn't he imagine the advocate of the countess amusing Paris with his remarks about Nana?
Everything would have come out--her fiasco at the Varietes, her house, her manner of life.

Oh dear, no! She had no wish for all that amount of advertising.