"His heart is in
that grave in Vannes."
The women listened in surprise, for Frances was not in
the habit of exploiting her emotions in words.
"We understood," said one of them, with a sympathetic
shake of the head, "that it was a pure love match. Mrs.
George Waldeaux, we heard, was a French artist of
remarkable beauty?"
Frances moved uneasily. "I never thought her--but I
can't discuss Lisa!" She was silent a moment. "But as
for her social position"--she drew herself up
stiffly, fixing cold defiant eyes on her questioner--"as
for her social position," she went on resolutely, "she
was descended on one side from an excellent American
family, and on the other from one of the noblest houses
in Europe."
When they were gone she hugged little Jacques
passionately as he lay on her lap. "That is settled for
you!" she said.
When George came back in the evening, he found her
walking with the boy in her arms on the broad piazzas.
"I really think he knows that he has come home, George!"
she exclaimed. "See how he laughs! And he liked the
dogs and horses just as Lisa thought he would. I am glad
it is such a beautiful home for him. Look at that slope
to the bay! There is no nobler park in England! And the
house is as big as most of their palaces, and much more
comfortable!"
"Give the child to Colette, mother, and listen to me.
Now that I have settled you and him here, I must go and
earn your living."
"Yes."
She followed him into the hall.
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