But you--you are not like that." Loo Barebone laughed with an easy gaiety, which seemed infectious, though Marie did not join in it, but stood scowling in the doorway.
"Yes," he said, "you have described them exactly.

I know a hundred who are like great trees.

Many are so, but they are kind and still like trees--the English, when you know them, mademoiselle." "They ?" she said, with her prettily arched eyebrows raised high.
"We, I mean," he answered, quickly, taking her meaning in a flash.

"I almost forgot that I was an Englishman.

It is my heritage, perhaps, that makes me forget--or yourself.