"Ah, she is an artist, my dear sir, most assuredly," he declared.

"But, to tell you the truth, she is also a franche coquette.

I am sorry to say," he added in a moment, shaking his head with a world of harmless bitterness, "that she comes honestly by it.

Her mother was one before her!" "You were not happy with your wife ?" Newman asked.
M.Nioche gave half a dozen little backward jerks of his head.

"She was my purgatory, monsieur!" "She deceived you ?" "Under my nose, year after year.