The air of that little room was too hot: it had the close, heavy warmth of a greenhouse.

The roses were withering, and intoxicating odors floated up from the patchouli in the cup.
"One would like to be very rich on occasions like this," added Nana.
"Well, well, we each do what we can.

Believe me, gentlemen, if I had known--" She was on the point of being guilty of a silly speech, so melted was she at heart.

But she did not end her sentence and for a moment was worried at not being able to remember where she had put her fifty francs on changing her dress.

But she recollected at last: they must be on the corner of her toilet table under an inverted pomatum pot.