enough to drive now, and I will take a day off and wear a pretty gown and be grande dame."
So off we went the next day, the three of us in the little car, which I drove down a long forest alley with a Gothic roof of burnished bronze. We spread our napkins in a little glade and had a wonderful déjeuner of hors d'œuvres, all sorts, and poulet froid, with salad and galantine, and game pâtés and pickled truffles and dessert. I looked after the wines myself an old Amontillado and a very dry champagne that was given me by a friend who owned some hectares of vines near Epernay, and an old Beaune with a wonderful bouquet; and afterwards coffee which Rosalie made on a percolator, and some liqueur.
After luncheon, Sœur Anne Marie informed us that age possessed its privileges, and she proposed also to show the bon Dieu her appreciation of the good things she had eaten and drunk by withdrawing a little while from the material world in a peaceful nap. So we made her comfortable with a rug and a cushion from the car, and Rosalie and I strolled off under the ancient trees. We came to the top of a high bank on the edge of the big route, and here we seated ourselves on the edge of a laurel thicket to talk and watch the big cars that kept whizzing by.
It was a perfect day in October, and the old-gold canopy overhead screened a sky as blue as the eyes of a little child. Rosalie looked at me and smiled. Her cheeks were red to-day, and her eyes the colour of the autumn leaves. She wore a tailor suit of dark-blue serge and a pretty hat, and looked altogether the stylish femme du monde. Nobody could
