For a time she said nothing of plans, even to herself.

It was not long before the baby of Jeanne found a place upon her knee, and Jeanne herself, though jealous, was willing to surrender her dearest rights, at least for a time.
But always the eyes of this world weary woman were lifted up to the hills.

She found herself gazing out beyond the street of St.
Genevieve, toward the Ozarks, where once she had traveled--true, against her will, but yet through scenes which she now remembered.
And always there came up in her mind a question which she found no way to ask.

It was Jeanne herself who, either by divination or by blunder, brought up the matter.
"Madame remembers that man yonder, that savage, Dunwodee ?" she began, apropos of nothing.

"That savage most execrable, who was so unkind to madame and myself--but who made love so fiercely?
I declare, Madame, I believe it was Monsieur Dunwodee set me listening to Hector! _Eh, bien_!" They were sitting near the window, looking out upon the bleak prospect of the winter woods.