"You are right. He will name a lower price in the hope of two orders."
And, pushing the "Princess" before her like a turret of defence,
Madame Dépine wheeled her into the ladies' department.

The _coiffeur_, who was washing the head of an American girl, looked
up ungraciously. As he perceived the outer circumference of Madame
Dépine projecting on either side of her turret, he emitted a glacial
"_Bon jour, mesdames._"

"Those grey wigs--" faltered Madame Valière

"I have already told your friend." He rubbed the American head
viciously.

Madame Dépine coloured. "But--but we are two. Is there no reduction on
taking a quantity?"

"And why then? A wig is a wig. Twice a hundred francs are two hundred
francs."

"One hundred francs for a wig!" said Madame Valière, paling. "I did
not pay that for the one I wear."

"I well believe it, madame. A grey wig is not a brown wig."

"But you just said a wig is a wig."

The _coiffeur_ gave angry rubs at the head, in time with his explosive
phrases. "You want real hair, I presume--and to your measure--and to