"I fourteen year old then. My mot'er got 'not'er osban' now. Common man. They gone with Buffalo Lake people. I not care. All tam I think of my fat'er. He is one fine man.
"Las' summer the priest come here. Mak' good talk, him. Say if we good, bam-by we see the dead again. What you think, is that true talk, Angleysman?"
Ambrose's arm tightened around the wistful child. "Honest truth!" he whispered.
She opened her simple heart fully to him. Her soft speech tumbled out as if it had been dammed all these years, and only now released by a touch of kindness.
Ambrose was touched as deeply as a young man may be by a woman he does not love, yet he could not help glancing over her head at the square of sky obliquely revealed through the window. It gradually darkened.
"The moon has gone down," he said at last.
Nesis clung to him. "Ah, you so glad to leave me!" she whimpered.
He gently released himself. "Think of me a little," he said. "I must get a long start before daylight."
She buried her face on her knees. Her shoulders shook.
"Nesis!" he whispered appealingly.