"Then eat, Maman."
"It is that I am not hungry, Angele."
"So, the p'tit marmite is not good, petite Maman. If it were excellent, even though you have no hunger, you would eat and eat until there was not one little bit left."
The woman took another spoonful.
"When?" She repeated.
The boy's dark eyes lifted and looked into hers.
"To-night,—Maman."
Her figure straightened itself with a quick jerk.
"To-night?"
"And what does it matter, petite Maman, when I go? Surely to-night is as nice a time as any."