"In America? Truly? One would never suppose."
"We had a French nun for teacher."
"Yes, yes. And monsieur your sweetheart, he does not speak French—no?"
Muriel started.
"Monsieur," she said, a little stiffly, "is my husband."
But the visitor, far from feeling reprimanded, was openly delighted.
"Your husband?" she echoed. "Very good. He is handsome, your husband."
"I think so," said Muriel.
"And it is always good," pursued the guest, "that the husband be much older than the wife, is it not?"
Instantly Muriel relapsed. She could not know that the girl spoke sincerely. She was among strangers, and, like most of us, instinctively suspected all whose native tongue was not her own.