"
"You love all that, m'sieu?" she asked.
"Yes, madame!"
"Why 'madame,' when I have given you permission to call me 'Marie-
Anne'?" she demanded.
"Because you call me 'm'sieu'."
"But you--you have not given me permission--"
"Then I do now," he interrupted quickly.
"Merci! I have wondered why you did not return the courtesy," she
laughed softly. "I do not like the m'sieu. I shall call you
'David'!"
She rose out of the hammock suddenly and dropped her needles and
lace work into the little basket. "I have forgotten something. It
is for you to eat when it comes dinner-time, m'sieu--I mean David.
So I must turn fille de cuisine for a little while. That is what
St. Pierre sometimes calls me, because I love to play at cooking.
I am going to bake a pie!"
The dark-screened door of the kitchenette closed behind her, and
Carrigan walked out from under the awning, so that the sun beat
down upon him. There was no longer a doubt in his mind. He was
more than fool. He envied St. Pierre, and he coveted that which
St. Pierre possessed. And yet, before he would take what did not
belong to him, he knew he would put a pistol to his head and blow
his life out.
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