“They’re good,” Kendall repeated to himself.
“Who said they weren’t?”
“All of America.... All the world that we know. And it must be wrong—it must be.”
“Suits me—it’s wrong, then.”
“But—but the way America thinks is right in America. That’s what I can’t understand. Right is right there, and what America thinks is wrong seems to be right over here....”
“What do you speak?... Oh, you speak trop vite. I cannot onderstan’.” Andree made a little face of distress.
“I was saying that you are a dear child and I love you.”
“It is ver’ well.” She stretched out her tiny hand and patted Kendall’s hand.
Arlette entered with the meat, depositing it on the table and standing by with her usual apprehension. “It is beef,” she said. “Perhaps it is tough!...”
“It is ver’ well,” said Andree.