You have treated me kindly and with beautiful friendliness.

You have not done or said a thing that Father Beret or anybody else could criticise.

And if I have said or done the least thing to trouble you I repudiate it--I did not mean it.
Now you believe me, don't you, Miss Roussillon ?" He seemed to be falling into the habit of speaking to her in English.
She understood it somewhat imperfectly, especially when in an earnest moment he rushed his words together as if they had been soldiers he was leading at the charge-step against an enemy.

His manner convinced her, even though his diction fell short.
"Then we'll talk about something else," she said, laughing naturally now, and retreating to a chair by the hearthside.

"I want you to tell me all about yourself and your family, your home and everything." She seated herself with an air of conscious aplomb and motioned him to take a distant stool.
There was a great heap of dry logs in the fireplace, with pointed flames shooting out of its crevices and leaping into the gloomy, cave-like throat of the flue.