She had money of her own—much more than I have—and there was no need to squabble about that. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. In other respects, they were equally indecorous and offensive. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. Youth finds it pleasant sometimes to be melancholy. And probably the girl would wear herself out, too.
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