“Come on. No time like the present. We’ll find her at work.”
“Yes, but ... will you go in and sound her first?”
“Yes, yes. Don’t be such a coward. You can wait outside.”
He stumped along beside me till we came to the rue Mazarin, and I left him while I went to interview Frosine.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said gladly. “Come in. It’s early, but I put Solonge to bed so that I could get a lot of work finished. See! it’s a wedding trousseau. How is Madame? Is everything well? Can I do anything for you? Solonge remembered you in her prayers. You may kiss her if you like.”
“How lovely she is,” I said, stooping over the child. I was trying to think of some way in which to lead up to my subject.
Frosine never left off working. Once more she was the bright, practical woman, capable of fighting for herself in the struggle of life.
“How hard you work! Do you never tire, never get despondent?”
She looked at me with a happy laugh. The fine wrinkles seemed to radiate from her eyes.
“No; why should I? I have my child. I am free. There’s no one on my back. You see I’m proud. I don’t like any one over me. Freedom is a passion with me.”