Sophie tried to take off her sunbonnet with one hand, but the knot
tightened, and it tipped back on her head, giving her a piquant air. She
flushed.

"Oh, m'sieu'!" she said in English, "it's kind of you to call. I am
quite glad--yes."

Then she turned round to put the strawberries upon a table, but he was
beside her in an instant and took the dish out of her hands. Placing it
on the table, he took a couple of strawberries in his fingers.

"May I?" he asked in French.

She nodded as she whipped off the sunbonnet, and replied in her own
language:

"Certainly, as many as you want."

He bit into one, but got no further with it. Her back was turned to him,
and he threw the berry out of the window. She felt rather than saw what
he had done. She saw that he was fagged. She instantly thought of a
cordial she had in the house, the gift of a nun from the Ursuline
Convent in Quebec; a precious little bottle which she had kept for the
anniversary of her wedding day. If she had been told in the morning that
she would open that bottle now, and for a stranger, she probably would
have resented the idea with scorn.

His disguised weariness still exciting her sympathy, she offered him a
chair.