'Thank you, Orange. How very kind and thoughtful you are!' said Mirelle.
Orange went up to her. Orange had lost her colour, and a hard, restrained look had come over her face.
'How are you now?'
'A little better; not much. I feel very cold.'
'It is heart,' said Orange, 'that ails you. That will stop some day—or night. Stop in a moment when least expected.' And without another word she went back through her door and re-locked it.
'Shall I unpack your box, mistress?' asked the old woman. 'It won't do for you to stoop. It might bring the swimming in your head again. It is only for me to stay up a bit later to finish the housework.'
'Thank you, dear, kind Geneviève. I am much obliged, I shall be very glad of it.'
Genefer uncorded and unlocked the trunk and removed from it what she thought would be necessary for the night.
'Shall I bring out this Christ on the cross?' she asked, holding up the crucifix Herring had bought for his bride.
'Oh, please do so. I shall be glad to have it.'