You fooled me this morning; but I overheard two old maids talking about you and the young man. ‘Well, I can see you won’t let it alone, so what do you propose to do about the wench?’ ‘I’ll die before I let it alone,’ Gerald vowed. ‘Mademoiselle,’ he had greeted her, entering the little private parlour where, Martha being at prayer in their room, she sat alone, reading over and over the letter Mother Abbess had given her and revolving plans in her head. Michelle laughed, saying that she could only guess. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion. “I suppose,” said her father, “I have read at least half the novels that have been at all successful during the last twenty years. He continued thoughtfully.
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