"I think she was a little flattered."
"I hope so."
"Yes," my companion rejoined, "for, after all, her own exquisite taste is half the business." To this proposition I cordially assented, and Sanguinetti went on: "But, after all, too, the dear creature won't lose that in coming to me. I shall make arrangements to have her hair dressed regularly."
"I see that you mean to do things en prince. Who is it that dresses her hair?'
"The coiffeur himself."
"The husband?"
"Exactly. They say he is the best in Paris."
"The best husband?" I asked.
"My dear fellow, be serious—the best coiffeur."
"It will certainly be very obliging of him."
"Of course," said Sanguinetti, "I shall pay him for his visits, as—if—as if—" And he paused a moment.
"As if what?"
"As if she were one of his fine ladies. His wife tells me that he goes to all the duchesses."
"Of course," I replied, "that will be something. But still—"
"You mean," said my companion, "that I live so far away? I know that, but I will pay him his cab-fare."
