When one or two of the gloomy and stolid women who hurried past in their wooden sabots clicked their fingers to it, she could not help smiling gayly and bidding them good-day.
The fog was stifling.

As she waited she gave a tired gasp.

Colette ran to her.

"Madame is going to be ill!" "No, no! Don't frighten monsieur." George came out of the gate at the moment.
"Going to faint again, Lisa ?" he said, with an annoyed glance around the street.

"Your attacks do choose the most malapropos times----" "Oh, dear no, George! I am quite well quite." She walked beside him with an airy step, laughing gayly now and then, but George's frown deepened.
"I don't understand these seizures at all," he said.