“I wish I could explain. I can never understand you wholly, and you—I’m afraid you will never be able to understand me at all. We have grown up in different worlds. You here, I in America.... Do you know that what you are doing is very bad in America? that a girl who does as you have done is an outcast? that no one will receive her in their homes nor have anything to do with her? ... People would say you were bad....”
“Oh, thees America! It is ver’ sérieux. Is there not love in America, then?”
“Love is proper only when people marry.”
“And in America I would be a bad girl?”
“Yes.”
“Bicause I love ver’ much and am fidèle?”
“Because you love without marriage.”
“And that makes Monsieur Ware bad also—bicause he love’ me?”
“It makes him—yes, people would say he was bad.”
“It is a lie. He is not bad, but ver’ good and kind. Do I make him bad? Oh, mademoiselle, that is a ver’ silly thing. I would only make him good and happy. It is the ver’ truth.... And bicause of me he is made bad and you must not marry him!... Regard me, mademoiselle, what harm do you theenk he has from me?”