“What have I done, Miss Pellissier?” he pleaded. The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. Not far from the entrance, on the left, was a sort of screen, or partition-wall, reaching from the floor to the ceiling, formed of thick oaken planks riveted together by iron bolts, and studded with broad-headed nails. She was dressed as a white woman should be; and that for the present satisfied her instincts. “I do not wish to make impertinent inquiries into your private life. It’s no good hiding it any more. I don’t suppose a girl can tell if a man is in love with her or not in love with her.
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