Let us talk of something else.

Besides, it is not interesting to talk about one's self." "Very well; since there is nothing serious or interesting in your case, we will talk about something that is both serious and interesting." "With all my heart;" and she smiled with a sense of relief.
But the doctor leaned over the table to her, and said in a cautious and most emphatic whisper, "We will talk about YOUR CHILD." The work dropped from Josephine's hands: she turned her face wildly on Aubertin, and faltered out, "M--my child ?" "My words are plain," replied he gravely.

"YOUR CHILD." When the doctor repeated these words, when Josephine looking in his face saw he spoke from knowledge, however acquired, and not from guess, she glided down slowly off the sofa and clasped his knees as he stood before her, and hid her face in an agony of shame and terror on his knees.
"Forgive me," she sobbed.

"Pray do not expose me! Do not destroy me." "Unhappy young lady," said he, "did you think you had deceived me, or that you are fit to deceive any but the blind?
Your face, your anguish after Colonel Dujardin's departure, your languor, and then your sudden robustness, your appetite, your caprices, your strange sojourn at Frejus, your changed looks and loss of health on your return! Josephine, your old friend has passed many an hour thinking of you, divining your folly, following your trouble step by step.

Yet you never invited him to aid you." Josephine faltered out a lame excuse.