“Why, yes, I do see. It’s like acting, isn’t it? I _will_ forget it is
I.” I tried to laugh and added: “I will say: ‘O Lord, have mercy on me,
this is none of me!’ That’s an old Mother Goose rhyme, Miss St. Denis.”
Because I could see she had fatigued herself on my account, and it was
my turn now to comfort and reassure her, I put my arms about her and
hugged and kissed her. Tears came into my eyes, and she murmured:
“Pauvre petite enfant! You look like ma petite sœur!”