"A woman's memory! When I think of a woman's memory--in fact, I do notlike to think of a woman's memory. 0ne can intrude in imagination intomany places; but a woman's memory--"

Mr. Horace seemed to lose his thread. It had been exclaimed of him inhis youth that he wrote poetry--and it was exclaimed against him. It wasevidently such lapses as these that had given rise to the accusation.And as there was no one less impatient under sentiment or poetrythan madame, her feet began to agitate themselves as if Jules wereperorating some of his culinary inanities before her.

"And a man's memory!" totally misunderstanding him. "It is not therethat I either would penetrate, my friend. A man--"