Florentine... Florentine Lacasse... half song, half squalor, half springtime, half misery,the young man murmured. - Gabrielle Roy

"Don’t preach," said Florentine violently. She was beginning to see the maze of lies and deceptions that lay before her.

He saw a tree in a backyard, its branches tortured among electric wires and clotheslines, its leaves dry and shriveled before they were fully out. Low in the sky, dark clouds heralded the storm.

Her shoulders sagging, her back hunched, her eyelids tired, Rose-Anna sewed for the feast, not daring even to sing for fear of frightening off her joy.