human
Ah, Papa Tignol! he said briskly.
gpt
How goes it?
human
Eh, well enough, M. Paul; but I don't like _that_.
gpt
Always croaking! laughed the other.
human
Why, it's a fine sunset, man!
gpt
It's too red. And it's barred with purple!
human
Like your nose. Ha, ha! And Coquenil's face lighted gaily.
gpt
Forgive me, Papa Tignol.
human
Have your joke, if you will, but, he turned with sudden directness,
gpt
You mean the murders in the Rue Montaigne?
human
Pre-cisely.
gpt
Pooh! A foolish fancy! How many red sunsets have there been since we found those two poor women stretched out in their white-and-gold _salon_? Well, I must get on. Come to-night at nine. There will be news for you.
human
News for me, echoed the old man.