“Yes.”

“A good one?”

“Oh, no! horrid: but I go out every Sunday, and care nothing about the maîtresses or the professeurs , or the élèves , and send lessons au diable (one daren’t say that in English, you know, but it sounds quite right in French); and thus I get on charmingly⁠ ⁠… You are laughing at me again?”

“No⁠—I am only smiling at my own thoughts.”

“What are they?” (Without waiting for an answer)⁠—“Now, do tell me where you are going.”