Come, boy! Discussions are over.

The curtain is up; the play is on!" Without apology, Blake caught his shoulder and swung him out into the roadway, as he had swung him across the Esplanade des Invalides that morning.

"Come! I'm going to insist upon a new medicine; my first prescription was not the right one.

You're too theoretical to-night for a place of traditions.

We'll shelve our little _cabaret_ till some hour when genius burns, and instead I'll plunge you straight into common frivolity, as though you were some Cockney tourist getting his week-end's worth! Have you ever heard of the Bal Tabarin ?" "Never.