“Well, ma chérie,” said Ned, “you may relax discipline now, may you not? It worries me to have this inconversable ape criticising me from his corner.”
“Baptiste,” said Nicette, “you may go and play—in the shadow, Baptiste.”
The child went out dully, with a lifeless step. It would seem he recognised no enticing novelty in the form of words.
“Now we will have a comfortable coze,” said Ned.
“How, monsieur?”
“That means we will exchange confidences, girl.”
Nicette smiled.
“You do not love children, monsieur?” she asked.
“Truly, I think not. They know, I fancy, so much more than they will tell. I feel nervous in their company, as if they might blackmail me if they would. It is no use to be conscious of my own innocence. Vague terrors assail me that they may be in possession of dark secrets that I have forgotten. For them, they never forget.”
“It is so, indeed, with little doubt.”