Seated in front of her mirror and bending her head beneath the hairdresser's nimble hands, she stayed silently meditative.

Presently, however, Zoe entered, remarking: "There's one of them, madame, who refuses to go." "Very well, he must be left alone," she answered quietly.
"If that comes to that they still keep arriving." "Bah! Tell 'em to wait.

When they begin to feel too hungry they'll be off." Her humor had changed, and she was now delighted to make people wait about for nothing.

A happy thought struck her as very amusing; she escaped from beneath Francis' hands and ran and bolted the doors.

They might now crowd in there as much as they liked; they would probably refrain from making a hole through the wall.