Nadie kept away from her.
Elfrida had to cross the room and bring her, with a little touch of angry assertion upon the arm, from the middle of the group she had drawn around her, on purpose, as her friend knew.
"I want you to dine with me--really _dine_," she said, and her voice was both eager and repressed.

"We win go to Babaudin's--one gets an excellent haricot there--and you shall have that little white cheese that you love.
Come! I want you particularly.

I will even make him bring champagne--anything." Nadie gave her a quick look and made a little theatrical gesture of delight.
"_Quell bonheur!_" she cried for the benefit of the others; and then in a lower tone: "But not Babaudins, petite.

Andre will not permit Babaudin's; he says it is not _convenable_," and she threw up her eyes with mock resignation.

"Say Papaud's.