“Well, dear?”
She repeated, “Well, what, father?”
A pause. Then M. Raindal spoke.
“Well, this young man.... At the dance.” Thérèse started; she looked at him fiercely and replied with bravado:
“What young man?”
“This M. Boerzell!”
A sigh of relief escaped her. Oh, only that one.... Poor fellow, she had forgotten him so! She smiled, and her voice firmly uttered:
M. Raindal insisted.
“Why? You seemed to like him....”