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Updated: June 17, 2025
Petty sat almost directly in front of him, or rather she stood Miss Woodhull wished each pupil to stand while reciting and upon being urged to "proceed" raised to him a pair of violet eyes swimming in tears, and a face of abject woe. Monsieur Sautelle was not over thirty. A dapper, exquisite little man.
When Monday morning came she was in despair, and went to her first recitation in a most emotional frame of mind. It happened to be French, and Monsieur Sautelle had been the French instructor but four months. Moreover, he had not yet been in America a year and American girls, and things American, were not only new but a constant source of marvel to him.
If ever instructor was taken literally Monsieur Sautelle was then and there, for with an overpowering sob she swayed forward, flung both arms about the dismayed man's neck and burying her face against his immaculate collar, gurgled: "Oh, I love! I do love! Thou lov-v-est! He He loves me!"
That it had been impossible for Petty to prepare her lessons for Monday and that her act was purely the outcome of nervous excitement and held no personal demonstration toward Professor Sautelle. This statement the Professor was more than delighted to back up and Petty's tears clenched it.
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