Fauchery began smiling, as though once more at his ease.
"Egad, they become the brides of God when they couldn't be their cousin's," said Vandeuvres between his teeth.
The subject bored him, and he had rejoined Fauchery.
"My dear fellow, have you ever seen a woman who was really loved become a nun ?" He did not wait for an answer, for he had had enough of the topic, and in a hushed voice: "Tell me," he said, "how many of us will there be tomorrow?
There'll be the Mignons, Steiner, yourself, Blanche and I; who else ?" "Caroline, I believe, and Simonne and Gaga without doubt.

One never knows exactly, does one?
On such occasions one expects the party will number twenty, and you're really thirty." Vandeuvres, who was looking at the ladies, passed abruptly to another subject: "She must have been very nice-looking, that Du Joncquoy woman, some fifteen years ago.

Poor Estelle has grown lankier than ever.

What a nice lath to put into a bed!" But interrupting himself, he returned to the subject of tomorrow's supper.
"What's so tiresome of those shows is that it's always the same set of women.

One wants a novelty.