Believe me, she is not worth it." Sylvia looked at her amazed, and then Madame Wachner broke into French: "She thought of nothing but play--that is the truth! Play, play, play! Other times she was half asleep!" She waited a moment, then slowly, and in English, she said, "I believe in my 'eart that she 'as gone off to Aix.

The play 'ere was not big enough for 'er.

And remember that you 'ave good friends still left in Lacville.
I do not only speak of me and of my 'usband, but also of another one." She laughed, if good-naturedly, then a little maliciously.
But Sylvia gave no answering smile.

She told herself that Madame Wachner, though kindly, was certainly rather vulgar, not to say coarse.

And her words about Madame Wolsky were really unkind.