It grows damp." As she climbed the stone stairway with the child, Colette lingered to gossip with the portier.

"Poor lady! You will adore her! She is one of us.

But she makes of that bete Anglais and the ugly child, saints and gods!" When George presently came up to their bare little room, Lisa was singing softly, as she rocked Jacques to sleep.
"Can't you sing the boy something a bit more cheerful ?" he said.

"You used to know some jolly catches from the music halls." "Catches for HIM ?" with a frightened look at the child's shut eyes.
"The 'Adeste Fideles' is moral, but it is not a merry air.

You sing it morning, noon, and night," he grumbled.
"Yes," she whispered, laying the child in its crib.