"I was married," said Madame de la Maine, "when I was sixteen."
Julia drew a little nearer and smiled to herself in the shadow.
This would be a real love story.
"I had just come out of the convent. We lived in an old château, older than the history of your country, ma chère, and I had no dot. Robert de Tremont and I used to play together in the allées of the park, on the terrace. When his mother brought him over, when she called on my grandmother, he teased me horribly because the weeds grew between the stones of our terrace. He was very rude.
"Throughout our childhood, until I was sixteen, we teased each other and fought and quarreled."
"This is not a love-affair, Thérèse," said Miss Redmond.
"There are all kinds, ma chère, as there are all temperaments," said Madame de la Maine. "At Assumption—that is our great feast, Julia—the Feast of Mary—it comes in August—at Assumption, Monsieur de la Maine came to talk with my grandmother. He was forty years old, and bald—Bob and I made fun of his few hairs, like the children in the Holy Bible."
Julia put out her hand and took the hand of Madame de la Maine gently. She was getting so far from a love-affair.
"I married Monsieur de la Maine in six weeks," said Thérèse.
"Oh," breathed Miss Redmond, "horrible!"