"Not yet, although I am goin' abroad."
"Abroad?"
"To France, ma'am.";
Mrs. Biddlecombe frowned. France was a godless country, where tempestuous petticoats abounded. She hoped that Susan was arraying herself in the blue gown. Blue suited the child's milk and roses complexion. In blue she might provoke comparison with the audacious hussies across the Channel. She was clever enough to murmur sympathetically, "You need a holiday, to be sure."
At this Quinney laughed.
"It's business. I'm after old oak. Want to work up a connection—hey?"
"Do you speak French?"
"Me? Do I speak Chocktaw? Do I speak English properly? Do I, now? O' course you parleyvoo like a native?"
"Not quite, Mr. Quinney."
"And Susie—you learned her French, and the pi-anner?"