a finger. And oh, how he needed to make these discoveries; how he needed to justify the irresistible drift of his emotions by finding excellencies in the dubious sister of the dubious Léon. And the proof of her quality was that she made no move that caused Floss a moment's discomfort. Mamie Mangum would have toyed with bead-bags or tried on hats, in the hope that heaven, via Floss, would vouchsafe her one: not Olga; she was simply helping Floss come to decisions which to anyone but Floss would have been obvious.
"You let them see how badly you wanted that fur!" Olga reproved, as they emerged from one shop. "I could have got it for you for two thousand francs less."
Floss's radiance remained unclouded. Her face seemed to be saying, Well, what on earth could I have done with an extra two thousand francs? To which Olga's eyes replied, Mon Dieu, what it costs to be rich! and Grover reflected, Richesse oblige.
"Now," cried Floss, "to find Paul. Allons enfants de la patrie!"
"Quoique le jour de gloire ne soit pas arrivé!" supplemented Olga, and Grover adored her for the ironical implications. So much could be read into it by an imagination as busy as his own.
The prince, waxed and pommaded, was taking his apéritif at Fouquet's.
"Just one sip of mother's ruin," said Floss, getting out of the car, "and then we'll have lunch."
