“Philibert did not tell me there were so many of you,” she said quaintly in French.
“We are all here, every one of us,” I rejoined. “We rushed to welcome you.”
She accepted this in silence, and I saw her gaze travel across to my sister who stood in the window, and rest there with vivid interest.
“You admire my sister?” I asked in English.
“Immensely. I hope she will like me. If only she did I wouldn’t mind.”
“The others? But they all will.”
“Do you think so?”
“I am sure of it.”
She sighed and looked at me gravely. She seemed to be thinking deeply, and she seemed very very young.
“There are so many differences,” she said after a moment’s hesitation.