Three Weeks

Only her red wine the maître d'hôtel poured into her glass himself. She lifted it up to the light to see the clear ruby, then she sipped it and scented its bouquet, the maître d'hôtel anxiously awaiting her verdict the while. "Bon," was all she said, and the weight of the world seemed to fall from the man's sloping shoulders as he bowed and moved aside.

Paul's irritation grew. "She's well over thirty," he said to himself. "I suppose she has nothing else to live for! I wonder what the devil she'll eat next!"

She ate a delicate truite bleu, but she did not touch her wine again the while. She had almost finished the fish before Paul's sole au vin blanc arrived upon the scene, and this angered him the more. Why should he wait for his