"Surely, M'sieu David. I make them every morning for St. Pierre.
He is very fond of them. He says the third nicest thing about me
is my muffins!"
"And the other two?" asked David.
"Are St. Pierre's little secrets, m'sieu," she laughed softly, the
color deepening in her cheeks. "It wouldn't be fair to tell you,
would it?"
"Perhaps it wouldn't," he said slowly. "But there are one or two
other things, Mrs.--Mrs. Boulain--"
"You may call me Jeanne, or Marie-Anne, if you care to," she
interrupted him. "It will be quite all right."
She was picking up the breakfast dishes, not at all perturbed by
the fact that she was offering him a privilege which had the
effect of quickening his pulse for a moment or two.
"Thank you," he said. "I don't mind telling you it is going to be
difficult for me to do that--because--well, this is a most unusual
situation, isn't it? In spite of all your kindness, including what
was probably your good-intentioned endeavor to put an end to my
earthly miseries behind the rock, I believe it is necessary for
you to give me some kind of explanation. Don't you?"
"Didn't Bateese explain to you last night?" she asked, facing him.
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