And Adare was riotous with joy because of it.
"Look at your mother, Josephine," he commanded in a hoarse whisper, meant for all to hear.

"I said the forests would do more than a thousand doctors in Montreal!" "You do look splendid, Mikawe," said Josephine, slipping an arm about her mother's waist.
Adare had turned into a sudden volley of greetings to the feasting dogs, and for another moment Philip's eyes were on mother and daughter.
Josephine was the taller of the two by half a head.

She was more like her father.

He noted that the colour had not returned fully into her cheeks, while the flush in Miriam's face had deepened.

There was something forced in Josephine's laugh, a note that was unreal and make-believe, as she turned to Philip.
"Isn't my mother wonderful, Philip?
I call her Mikawe because that means a little more than Mother in Cree--something that is almost undying and spirit-like.