He had survived the heat of one
summer and had actually thrived on the frigidity of this, his second
winter, notwithstanding the fact that he had frequently slept without
covering in their poor, wind-swept attic.
"Splendid!" said Mr. Single, casting an admiring glance at the
rubicund Napoleon. "A hardy chap, by Jove. Of course, Madame, you
understand that it will be necessary for you to appear with us before
the proper authorities and sign certain papers, and so forth, before
the baby can be legally adopted by Mrs. Bingle and myself. The law
provides that you and your husband shall release all--"
"Mon dieu!" muttered Madame Rousseau, and as she had uttered the
expression no fewer than twenty times in the past half hour, Mrs.
Bingle was less favourably impressed with her than at the outset. To
Mrs. Bingle "Mon dieu" was blasphemy. "Is not my word sufficient,
m'sieur? I freely give my child to you. I am its mother. No one else
has a right to say what--"
"Ah, but you forget its father," interrupted Mr. Bingle.
"Yes," said Monsieur Jean, amiably.
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