He has made it for you, only for you; he
will be hurt if you do not take it!"
The coffee did look very tempting and fragrant.
Sylvia had always disliked coffee in England, but somehow French coffee
was quite different; it had quite another taste from that of the mixture
which the ladies of Market Dalling pressed on their guests at their
dinner-parties.
She lifted the pretty little cup to her lips--but the coffee, this coffee
of L'Ami Fritz, his special mixture, as his wife had termed it, had a
rather curious taste, it was slightly bitter--decidedly not so nice as
that which she was accustomed to drink each day after dejeuner at the
Villa du Lac. Surely it would be very foolish to risk a bad night for
a small cup of indifferent coffee?
She put the cup down, and pushed it away.
"Please do not ask me to take it," she said firmly. "It really is very
bad for me!"
Madame Wachner shrugged her shoulders with an angry gesture.
"So be it," she said, and then imperiously, "Fritz, will you please come
with me for a moment into the next room? I have something to ask you.
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