But Le Beau saw nothing of this.
"If you make a POOS (a house-kitten) of that dog--a thing like you made of Minoo, the breed-bitch, I will--" He did not finish, but his huge hands were clinched, and there was an ugly passion in his eyes.

Nanette needed no more than that.

She understood.

She had received many blows, but there was the memory of one that never left her, night or day.

Some day, if she could ever get to Post Fort O' God, and had the courage, she would tell LE FACTEUR of that blow--how Jacques Le Beau, her husband, struck it at the nursing time, and her bosom was so hurt that the baby of two years ago had died.