our bedrooms.

It was in these rooms, when the sun was hot on deck, that my sister and I
would join Alix to learn from her a new stitch in embroidery, or some of
the charming songs she had brought from France and which she accompanied
with harp or guitar.

Often she read to us, and when she grew tired put the book into my hands
or Suzanne's, and gave us precious lessons in reading, as she had in
singing and in embroidery. At times, in these moments of intimacy, she
made certain half-disclosures that astonished us more and more. One day
Suzanne took between her own two hands that hand so small and delicate and
cried out all at once:

"How comes it, Alix, that you wear two wedding rings?"

"Because," she sweetly answered, "if it gives you pleasure to know, I have
been twice married."

We both exclaimed with surprise.

"Ah!" she said, "no doubt you think me younger [bocou plus jeune] than I
really am. What do you suppose is my age?"

Suzanne replied: "You look younger than Françoise, and she is sixteen."

"I am twenty-three," replied Alix, laughing again and again.

Another time my sister took a book, haphazard, from the shelves.
Ordinarily [audinaremend] Alix herself chose our reading, but she was busy