“Where did you learn to speak French so well?” Noelle asked.
“I used to spend my summers at Cap D’Antibes when I was a kid. My old man was a
stock-market tycoon until the bears got him.”
“Bears?”
So Larry had to explain to her about the arcane ways of the stock market in America.
Noelle did not care what he talked about, so long as he kept talking.
“Where are you living?”
“Nowhere.” She told him about the taxi driver and Madame Delys and the fat man
believing she was a Princess and offering to pay forty francs for her, and Larry laughed
aloud.
“Do you remember where the house is?” “Yes.”
“Come on, Princess.”
When they arrived at the house on the rue de Provence, the door was opened by the
same uniformed maid. Her eyes lit up as she saw the handsome young American, then
darkened when she saw who was with him.
“We want to see Madame Delys,” Larry said. He and Noelle walked into the
reception hall. There were several girls in the drawing room beyond. The maid left and a
few minutes later Madame