“See,” he went on, and came up beside me, now anxious to explain, “I was teachin’ her le Français, she wants to learn it, so I was telling her the words for leech, and waterweed, and how to say things like, ‘Give me food, please,’ and ‘Go away, ye wicked sod.’ ” “How do you say, ‘Go away, you wicked sod’?” I asked, diverted. “Va t’en, espèce de méchant,” he said, shrugging. “I’ll remember that,” I said. “Never know when it might come in handy.”
