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She began to nibble the sandwich distastefully, propping up the score on her knee.

"I want a blue pencil, Marie."

Marie miraculously produced one.

"I shall show Weiss that I intend to be obeyed. Onee and for all I shall show him."

Marie asked, folding up underclothes: "Does Madame remember Monsieur Heinrich?"

"Of course I remember him. What of it?"

"I often wonder what has happened to him, that's all."

"Nothing has happened to him," Lina retorted, peeling her apple, "except his deserts. He is managing some screaming singer or other. And I am sorry for her. He was never the man for me."

"He was more of a gentleman than Monsieur Kessel."

"Oh, a gentleman! Who wants their manager to be a gentleman? And you had better go and get something to eat."

"Very well, Madame. I will be back before two."

"Did you put out the shoes I broke in this morning? The two pairs?"

"Yes, Madame."

"Very well, go. I shall try to sleep for half an hour."

But she did not sleep. She did not attempt to sleep. She became alert when she was left alone, stared at her face in a hand glass, scribbled impertinent comments upon the score of Barbe-Bleue, smoked countless cigarettes, polished her nails, glanced continually at her watch and sprang gladly off the sofa when Marie returned.

"Hurry! hurry! I want to be ready early!"

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