You'll be sure and lock the doors carefully, Victoire, won't you?
And lock up the necklace in the secret cupboard....

Yes; thanks very much, Victoire.

I shall see you to-morrow." She hung up the receiver, and came away from the telephone frowning.
"It's preposterous!" she said pettishly.

"Papa's friends and relations give me marvellous presents, and all the swells send me paper-knives.
It's all Jacques' fault.

He's above all this kind of thing.