The things we do!

The bones of the cheeks
stood out more now. He showed more gravity. Freed of his red
fighting flush, the, flame of passion gone out of his eyes, he
seemed more dignified, more of a man than had hitherto been
apparent to her.
"_Non_! _Non_!" cried out Jeanne, who had benefited unnoticed to
an extent undreamed hitherto in her experience in matter delicate
between man and maid. Her mistress raised a hand. She herself had
almost forgotten that Jeanne was in the room. "_Non_! _Non_!"
reiterated that young person. "Eet was no neegaire child, _pas de
tout, jamais de la vie_! I know those neegaire voice. It was a
voice white, Madame, Monsieur! Apparently it wept. Perhaps it had
hunger."
A sort of grim uncovering of his teeth was Dunwody's smile. He
made no comment. His face was whiter than before.
"Whose child was it?" demanded Josephine, motioning to the garments
he still held in his hands. "Hers?" He shook his head slowly.
"No."
"Yours?"
"No."
"Oh, well, I suppose it was some servant's--though the overseer,
Jeanne says, lives across the fields, there.


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