She was not French-Canadian; yet she was French; that was clear from her accent.

Yet the voice had an accent of crudity, and the plump whiteness of the skin and waving fulness of the hair gave the girl a look of an adventuress.

She was dressed in black with a white collar which, by contrast, seemed to heighten her unusual nature.
At first Junia shuddered, for Luzanne's presence made her uneasy; yet the girl must have good qualities, for she had brought comforts to the sick woman, and indeed, within, madame had spoken of the "dear beautiful stranger." That could be no other than this girl.

She became composed.
Yet she had a feeling that between them was a situation needing all her resources.

About what?
She would soon know, and she gave her name at last slowly, keeping her eyes on those of Luzanne.
At mention of the name, Luzanne's eyes took on prejudice and moroseness.
The pupils enlarged, the lids half closed, the face grew sour.
"Junia Shale--you are Junia Shale ?" The voice was bitter and resentful.
Junia nodded, and in her smile was understanding and conflict, for she felt this girl to be her foe.
"We must have a talk--that's sure," Luzanne said with decision.
"Who are you ?" asked Junia calmly.