It remained therefore an eyesore to
the neighbourhood, until his death put it in the possession of a less
avaricious successor. The proprietor never came near the place, and
with the neighbours it had a bad repute, and they avoided it as much as
possible. It stood, as I have said, alone, and in its own garden, and
Ninette's occupation of it may have passed unnoticed, while even if any
one of the poor people living around had known of her, it was, after all,
nobody's business to interfere.
When I was last in Paris I went to look for the house, but all traces of it
had vanished, and over the site, so far as I could fix it, a narrow street
of poor houses flourished.
Ninette introduced me to her domain with a proud air of ownership. She had
a little store of charcoal, with which she proceeded to light a fire in
the grate, and by its fitful light prepared our common supper--bread and
radishes, washed down by a pennyworth of milk, of which, I have no doubt, I
received the lion's share. As a dessert we munched, with much relish, the
steaming potatoes that Ninette had bought from a stall in the street, and
had kept warm in the pocket of her apron.
And so, as Ninette said, we made a _menage_ together.
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