"No."
"Are you sorry for yourself?"
"Yes. I think I am sometimes—"
"Why?"
"Oh—because I want my mother. And the girls don't like me. Oh, and everything. And I want to be with father instead of at school. But I don't feel that way so much any more, Paul. And if I can learn how to ski it will be wonderful. And I love coming here every week-end. And I'm beginning to like school. Truly I am."
"Why do you keep saying that?" Paul asked, holding the loaf against his chest and cutting off another chunk. "You keep saying you like school so much and I don't believe you really do at all."
"I do," Flip persisted. "I don't hate it the way I used to." And she realized with a start that her words were true. While she didn't actually like school, she no longer hated it with the sickening passion of only a few short weeks ago.
"Aunt Colette said something else," Paul went on. "Do you want to hear?"
"Of course."
"She said you reminded her of Denise."