She was sure to choose the mignonette--a fair, well-bred, graceful plant like herself.

Others choose their camellias and their hyacinths; Jeanne must have something more refined.
She put down her money, caught up the bunch, looked at it for a moment, and held it close to her breast as a mother might hold her child, while all its golden locks drooped over her arm.

Then off she ran after her father, who had only changed one carnation for another.

They went on toward St.Sulpice--M.

Flamaran on the right, M.Charnot in the middle, Jeanne on the left.