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Four
days
,
eight
days
,
twelve
days
passed
,
and
he
was
invited
to
teas
,
to
suppers
,
to
lunches
.
They
sat
talking
through
the
long
green
afternoons
-
they
talked
of
art
,
of
literature
,
of
life
,
of
society
and
politics
.
They
ate
ice
creams
and
squabs
and
drank
good
wines
.
"
I
don
’
t
care
what
anyone
says
,
"
she
said
.
"
And
people
are
saying
things
,
aren
’
t
they
?
"
He
shifted
uneasily
.
"
I
knew
it
.
A
woman
’
s
never
safe
,
even
when
ninety
-
five
,
from
gossip
.
"
"
I
could
stop
visiting
.
"
"
Oh
,
no
,
"
she
cried
,
and
recovered
.
In
a
quieter
voice
she
said
,
"
You
know
you
can
’
t
do
that
.
You
know
you
don
’
t
care
what
they
think
,
do
you
?
So
long
as
we
know
it
’
s
all
right
?
"
"
I
don
’
t
care
,
"
he
said
.
"
Now
"
-
she
settled
back
—
"
let
’
s
play
our
game
.
Where
shall
it
be
this
time
?
Paris
?
I
think
Paris
.
"
"
Paris
,
"
he
said
,
nodding
quietly
.
"
Well
,
"
she
began
,
"
it
’
s
the
year
1885
and
we
’
re
boarding
the
ship
in
New
York
harbor
.
There
’
s
our
luggage
,
here
are
our
tickets
,
there
goes
the
sky
line
.
Now
we
’
re
at
sea
.
Now
we
’
re
coming
into
Marseilles
.
.
.
"
