Page:Storm Over Paris.pdf/66

though it was a huge man slowly swallowing the house. It obliterated the colors from the pillows strewn about the room, erased the sensitive features of Lulu, even the shawl around Madame Dabbie's throat. Outside there was enough light to reveal the feet of the tenants as up and down the entry steps.

• * *

When Monsieur Lepetit caught sight of his two unexpected visitors, he peered at them for a long time with his sleepy eyes, trying to remember whether he had asked the waiter to send them up. Maybe he was simply dreaming.

But why on earth two of them? They looked like a couple of provincial country girls who had blundered in by mistake. Lepetit rubbed his eyes, took his glasses off, wiped them, and then set them back on his nose. For some reason this gesture tickled the two girls into a spasm of giggling.

"Who sent you here, ladies?" Lepetit asked.

When Mary, between one chuckle and the next, managed to utter Monique's name, his bewilderment left him. He leaned back comfortably on the divan and began to contemplate the two girls. The obviously poor clothing on the taller one surprised him; the smaller one though, with the red cheeks and the heavy ankles, wasn't bad at all. He began to examine her with amorous eyes.

By now the girls had recovered something of their poise. Lepetit sat them both near him on the divan and offered them some wine, and then began to ask about Monique.

"So that's what it is? She's sick, eh? I knew right away that something must have happened. I'm very sorry to hear it. I've been waiting for quite a long time. Is she really so sick that she hasn't been able to telephone?"

Oh, Monsieur, that was impossible!" Mary covered her