Rue Barrée, Chapter 3

⁠​​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌⁠About five o’clock that afternoon, the little sad-eyed woman who fills the position of concierge at the Hôtel du Sénat held up her hands in amazement to see a wagon-load of flower-bearing shrubs draw up before the doorway. She called Joseph, the intemperate garçon, who, while calculating the value of the flowers in petits verres, gloomily disclaimed any knowledge as to their destination.

“Voyons,”