A Parisian Romance — page 168: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A PARISIAN ROMANCE. 159 As he spoke, he stretched out his arms to her, and with a low cry she threw herself into them, and buried her head in his breast. After Henri had returned to his office and Madame de Targy had gone out to her lessons, Marcelle sat down to the little upright piano in a much happier mood than she had been for weeks. As her hands strayed over the keys, she thought to herself: After all, as long as she had Henri and his love, what mattered the rest? With a little pang, she remembered his words of praise of Armande Chev- rial. Yes, the baroness was a better, nobler woman than she was. She recalled a conversation she had with her a few days before. Madame Chevrial had come to invite her to drive in the Bois, but she had refused rather curtly. “But why?” asked Armande. “It is a beautiful day. It will do you good.” | “JT should not do you honor with my shabby dress.” “What nonsense! You look charming.” Then, with one of those quick revulsions which were characteristic of her, Marcelle had exclaimed impulsively : “Pardon me, dear Armande, for refusing you so shortly as I did just now. I am becoming more and more ill-tempered every day. The hardest thing of all, when one is unhappy, is to feel that one is be- coming disagreeable at the same time. It is so easy to be pleasant when one is happy—so easy!” EomichooksrGo ALA