At that moment there was a flurry among the pressing men around, a
sound above the many voices wishing them luck, and little Francette
broke through.
"Ma'amselle!" she cried, looking up into Maren's eyes with conflicting
expressions on her small face, misery and solemn joy and hatred that
strove to soften itself beneath a better emotion; "Ma'amselle,--I would
thank you! Oh, bon Dieu! I am not all bad! Here"
She seized Loup by the ears and dragged him forward, snarling. "Take
him, Ma'amselle! I love him! Do you take him,--and--and-understand!"
All her red-rose beauty had gone from the little maid along with her
dancing lightness.
These long weeks had turned her into a woman with a woman's heart.
They drew back and looked on with wonder, and then smiles of amusement,
but Maren, gazing into the tragic little face, saw deeper.
"Why,--little one," she said gently, unconsciously falling into
McElroy's words after a trick she had, "I--I understand. You need not
give up the dog,--I know what you would say."
"No!" cried Francette fiercely. "No! Take him! Take him! I will make
you take him! I will!"
She was whimpering, and Maren, stooping, laid a hand on the husky's
collar.
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