‘Who, the émigrés?’ ‘Do I speak of the English, imbecile? Certainly the émigrés. "Do you call neglecting your work, and singing flash songs nothing? Zounds! you incorrigible rascal, many a master would have taken you before a magistrate, and prayed for your solitary confinement in Bridewell for the least of these offences. ‘Tell me about the convent? Were you happy there? They were kind to you, the nuns?’ ‘Oh, but yes. “Most of it is ugly and frowsy,” she declared, “but it isn’t worth talking about.
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