“Do you object to a visitor Miss Josephine?” said I with the most amiable manner I could muster. Poor soul! I should have thought she would have welcomed one.
“Mais non Monsieur but I speak so little English.”
“And I so little French. But we can manage to understand each other a little, I think. What do you say to the weather? When shall I be able to go out?”
Delle Josephine laughed. She went on quilling the ribbon that looked so white against her yellow hands.
“O Monsieur could go out dis day if he like, but de snow ver bad, very thick.”
“Do you ever go out, Miss Josephine?”
“Non Monsieur. I have not been out for what you call a valk—it will be five years that I have not been.”
“But you go to church, I suppose?”
“Mais oui Monsieur, but that is so near. And the good Père Le Jeune—he come to see me. He is all the frien Delle Josephine has, ah! oui Monsieur.”
“Ah! Bonneroi isn't much of a place, is it? Have you ever been to Quebec or Montreal?”