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always been a faithful or completely, shall we say, faultless man. But since meeting you, he has made himself a better man and has dedicated himself to you and your happiness. He speaks highly of you and your goals to anyone who asks. I just wondered if you knew that.”
    Marguerite was speechless. She nodded a bit and stood. The dean stood as well. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate your time and insight. I will keep all of this in mind. Might I call on you later to inquire as to the position on the ship?” She struggled to keep her voice even.
    “Don’t trouble yourself. I will send a pigeon in a few days.” He opened the door for her and Outil.
    “One other thing.” Marguerite had almost entirely forgotten. “Do you suppose I could retake my flight test this week? Is there any chance of that? As a special favor?” She smiled prettily.
    “I’m sorry. We really can’t do that. I’d love to, but really, I can’t. There is another test in two weeks time. If this position doesn’t work for you, then we’ll have you set to retake then. Never fear, m’lady. You will not go to waste in New France. We will keep you engaged.”
    Engaged. Marguerite shuddered at the word but smiled and thanked the dean again before leaving. Once they were safely out of earshot, Marguerite turned to her bot, smiling. “That went rather well, don’t you think?”
    “Yes, m’lady. Very interesting. Congratulations on passing your exams.”
    “Oh, I knew all along that I would pass. It was just a matter of finding out for certain. Now all I need to do is make things good with Father. And that begins with new clothes. Where shall we spend our money today?”
    The two spent the afternoon patronizing two dressmakers and a corsetiere. The result was a much more refined Marguerite and an Outil with very little energy in her reservoir.
    “Father, we are home!” Marguerite cried as she entered the towering double front doors, leaving Outil to pay the driver. Faulks came stomping into the hall. “Welcome home, m’lady.”
    “Where is Father?”
    “In his study. Will you be dining with us tonight?”
    “Of course.” Marguerite hurried past the bot, anxious to show her repentance by attire and to discuss her plans with her father. She found him in the study, as Faulks had said. Only he wasn’t reading. He was fast asleep in his armchair, a copy of “The Hundred Years’ War and its Follies in Weaponry” lying precariously on his lap. She regarded him for a moment. He looked so much older like this. So grey, and so very lined about the face. Her heart softened a bit as she regarded him.
    “Father?” She asked quietly.
    “Huh?” He jumped from his sleep with a start. The book slid from his legs and to the floor with a loud thud . Marguerite bent to pick it up. “My dear, what are you doing? What are you wearing?” He seemed confused, still on the edge of dreams and reality. She set the book on his bureau and spun so he could fully appreciate her new emerald green dress.
    “I have a waist, Father. Aren’t you happy?”
    He rubbed his face and smiled in admiration. “You look amazing. Thank you. What is the special occasion?”
    “Just that I missed seeing you smile when I came into a room, and I have good news.”
    “Of course. Please, sit down and tell me about your day.”
    Marguerite sat on the edge of a comfortable chair and leaned forward. “I have spoken with the dean of the school, and he has told me that I passed all of my exams. I even scored perfect marks in some of them.” She smiled triumphantly.
    “Well, then.” Her father hesitated. “I suppose that is wonderful news.”
    “Yes. It is. It proves that I have more than just fluff in my head.”
    “I never thought that of you.” He leaned forward, his face earnest.
    “I have proof that it isn’t true now, for anyone who does.” She sat back and folded her hands in her lap.
    “What is the next step for you then?” Her father stood and picked the book up