What our dear mother would say back home I dread to think. ‘You must think me a fool, mademoiselle. And Suzanne, even that she has behaved to me not at all like a mother, would also not have said. Accordingly, when she arrived at the Shovels, with which, as an old haunt in her bygone days of wretchedness she was well acquainted, instead of entering the principal apartment, which she saw at a glance was crowded with company of both sexes, she turned into a small room on the left of the bar, and, as an excuse for so doing, called for something to drink.
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