Grey Roses

e with them-pas possible, mon cher. Their thoughts were not my thoughts, we could not speak the same language. They disapproved

en servir, de cette expression-là.) Olàlà, làlà! And then-have you ever been homesick? Oh, I longed, I pined, for Paris, as one suffocating would long, would die, for air. Enfin, I could not stand it any longer. They thought it wicked to smoke cigarettes. My poor aunt-when she smelt cigarette-smoke in my bed-room! Oh, her face!

to live? For, after all, much as she loved Par

somehow. I'll not die of hu