“Some day, perhaps,” said M. de Kercadiou vaguely, and swept his godson out.
In the carriage he asked him bluntly of what madame had talked.
“She was very kind—a sweet woman,” said Andre-Louis pensively.
“Devil take you, I didn’t ask you the opinion that you presume to have formed of her. I asked you what she said to you.”
“She strove to point out to me the error of my ways. She spoke of great things that I might do—to which she would very kindly help me—if I were to come to my senses. But as miracles do not happen, I gave her little encouragement to hope.”
“I see. I see. Did she say anything else?”
He was so peremptory that Andre-Louis turned to look at him.
“What else did you expect her to say, monsieur my godfather?”
“Oh, nothing.”
“Then she fulfilled your expectations.”