She made a grimace. "Yes. A boy." In frank unconsciousness she set her hands with spread fingers against her breasts. "Flat, like a board," she said disconsolately.
"I like it," he reassured her. "It's part of the charm."
She gave her characteristic soft crow of pleasure. "That's the nicest thing you could possibly say to me. D'you mean it? Really?"
"Of course I mean it. Why not?"
"I thought men liked girls to be just the other way. All rounded." She peered at him doubtfully. "Perhaps it's because you're old," she surmised.
Taken aback for the moment he interpreted the innocent speech too literally. "I'm not as old as that. Though I don't suppose—I rather wonder what you meant by that."
"Oh, nothing! Just that the point of view must be different. Isn't it? Less personal."
"It's very personal in this case," he retorted with a real warmth of friendliness for this strange and appealing child, "and quite simple. You're a very delightful little Pat. I like your type. Petite gamine."
"What's that?"
"Isn't French taught in your school?"