Camille laughed, and, as his wife confined herself to answering his friend in monosyllables, he firmly believed they detested one another.

One day he even reproached Therese with what he termed her coldness for Laurent.
Laurent had made a correct guess: he had become the sweetheart of the woman, the friend of the husband, the spoilt child of the mother.

Never had he enjoyed such a capital time.

His position in the family struck him as quite natural.

He was on the most friendly terms with Camille, in regard to whom he felt neither anger nor remorse.