“No, he came two months later. When he left I went with him, to go to school in Tahiti. I have lived two years in Tahiti, and studied English and French with a school teacher from Australia. She was governess to the children of a Frenchman who was a good friend of my father.”
“So that’s why you speak such good English.”
She smiled happily. “You think so, Monsieur Dan Pritchard?”
He nodded. “And do not call me Monsieur Dan Pritchard,” he suggested. “Just call me plain Dan.”
“As you like, Plain Dan.”
Julia, listening, burst into a guffaw, caught herself in the middle of it and was covered with confusion. Tamea looked at her very suspiciously, but Julia’s quick Celtic wit saved her. She pretended to have a violent fit of coughing.
“Do you think you will be happy in San Francisco, Tamea?” Dan queried, in an effort to stimulate conversation.
“Who knows? Where one is not known, where it is cold and there is neither singing nor dancing nor laughter nor love——”
“Oh, that will come after you get acquainted! The first thing you must do is to become familiar with your surroundings and outgrow a very natural feeling of loneliness and, perhaps, homesickness. Then you shall be sent to a boarding school and become a very fine young lady.”
The suggestion aroused no enthusiasm in his guest, so he tried a new tack and one which he felt assured would appeal to the eternal feminine in her.