"I t'ink you come soon," he said. These two always conversed in English.
"You know everyt'ing," stated Bela simply.
He shrugged. "I just sit quiet, and my thoughts speak to me."
She dropped on her knees before him, and rested sitting on her heels, hands in lap. Without any preamble she said simply: "My fat'er a white man."
Musq'oosis betrayed no surprise. "I know that," he replied.
"My mot'er's fat'er, he white man too," she went on.
He nodded.
"Why you never tell me?" she asked, frowning slightly.
He spread out his palms. "What's the use? You want to go. Got no place to go. Too much yo'ng to go. I t'ink you feel bad if I tell."
She shook her head. "Mak me feel good. I know what's the matter wit' me now. I understand all. I was mad for cause I think I got poor mis'able fat'er lak Charley."