"I'm glad they've taught you to obey," said Madame Merle. "That's
what good little girls should do."
"Oh yes, I obey very well," cried Pansy with soft eagerness,
almost with boastfulness, as if she had been speaking of her
piano-playing. And then she gave a faint, just audible sigh.
Madame Merle, holding her hand, drew it across her own fine palm and
looked at it. The gaze was critical, but it found nothing to
deprecate; the child's small hand was delicate and fair. "I hope
they always see that you wear gloves," she said in a moment. "Little
girls usually dislike them."
"I used to dislike them, but I like them now," the child made
answer.
"Very good, I'll make you a present of a dozen."
"I thank you very much. What colours will they be?" Pansy demanded
with interest.
Madame Merle meditated. "Useful colours."
"But very pretty?"
"Are you very fond of pretty things?"
"Yes; but- but not too fond," said Pansy with a trace of asceticism.
"Well, they won't be too pretty," Madame Merle returned with a
laugh. She took the child's other hand and drew her nearer; after
which, looking at her a moment, "Shall you miss mother Catherine?" she
went on.
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