“Are you rich?”
She laughed. “No, I am ver’ fidèle.”
“So the poor folks always marry and are faithful?” he asked, with real curiosity.
“Oh, they are faithful. Not always do they marry. No. Sometimes they are too poor, sometimes they do not want to, but they are fidèle. But yes. Do young men and young girls in America always marry?”
“Yes.”
“It is very strange. Not so in France. No.”
“What then?”
“A young man love a young girl, and a young girl love a young man.... They marry, maybe. That is well. But maybe they do not marry. It is expensive to marry. Then they see each other very often and he gives her money so she can live.... That is well, because they are fidèle.”
Kendall gasped mentally. What would Detroit, what would his mother think of such a theory of life as this? How would they regard a mode of living which places fidelity over the solemn forms of marriage? Here was a people who apparently valued love and fidelity more than marriage licenses and wedding-rings!... It sounded very naughty to Kendall. Also it made him think. His mother and his father tried to function in him simultaneously and made a chaos of his thoughts....
The play continued. “Oh, you should onderstan’ French better. You must speak it well, well!” she exclaimed. “Then I can read poems to you. Do you know French poetry?”