And always there came up in her mind a question which she found no
way to ask. It was Jeanne herself who, either by divination or by
blunder, brought up the matter.
"Madame remembers that man yonder, that savage, Dunwodee?" she
began, apropos of nothing. "That savage most execrable, who was so
unkind to madame and myself--but who made love so fiercely? I
declare, Madame, I believe it was Monsieur Dunwodee set me
listening to Hector! _Eh, bien_!"
They were sitting near the window, looking out upon the bleak
prospect of the winter woods. For the time Josephine made no
comment, and Jeanne went on.
"He has at last, thank heavens, come to justice. Is it not true
that human beings find ever their deserts?"
"What do you mean, Jeanne?"
"Of the Congress of this state, where he is so long a member, he is
now not a member. He has fail', he has been defeat'."
"I thought he was sure of reelection so long as he chose,"
commented Josephine, with feigned indifference.
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