Paul took her up to her room in the gate house. It was a tiny cupboard of a place across the hall from Paul's room, painted a soft blue, with immaculate white curtains at the window. It was so small a room that the four poster bed took up the entire space; there wasn't even place for a bureau or a chair, and Flip was given a carved sea-captain's chest in the hall in which to keep her things. "And remember, don't close your door, Flip," Paul warned her. "The room's so small I guess you wouldn't want to, anyhow, but the latch is broken and you can't open the door from the inside." "I'll remember," Flip promised. As soon as Flip was unpacked she changed out of her uniform and into her ski clothes. Madame Perceval, who had stayed at the school until the majority of the girls were safely off on their various trains, had arrived, and they spent the day skiing. They took a funicular up the mountain and skied until dark, stopping at an inn for lunch. Then, at Flip's favorite time of day when the sky was an intense green-blue and the bare branches of the trees were a delicate filigree against it and the first stars began to tremble above the mountain, they skied back to the gate house. "Are you having a good time, Flip?" Paul asked anxiously. "Is everything all right?" "It's wonderful!" Flip assured him. "I'm having a _beautiful_ time." After dinner she brought her sketch pad and pencil downstairs with her and sat in front of the fire, idly sketching Paul and Monsieur Laurens. Monsieur Laurens was easy, with his peaked eyebrows, his long thin nose, and his pipe and his carpet slippers run down at the heels; but she could not caricature Paul. "Let me see," Paul said. She showed him the pad. "I can't do you," she told him. "I can do your father but I can't do you. I can't do Madame either. Why is it, Madame, that I can't do you and Paul?" Madame Perceval did not answer the question. Instead she said, "Some day you must try a real portrait of Paul. I'll let you use my oils." "Oh, would you, Madame!" Flip cried. "I'd love to try. Paul would make a wonderful portrait. Would you really sit for me, Paul?" Paul grinned rather shyly. "If you'd like me to." "Come on out in the kitchen," Madame said, "and we'll have a snack. And then it's time for you two to be in bed, holidays or no holidays." After Flip was in bed Paul crossed the hall and knocked on her open door. "Hello," Flip whispered. "Are you sleepy, Flip?" Paul asked, "or shall we talk for a few minutes?" "Come and talk." Paul had his eiderdown wrapped around him and he climbed up onto the foot of the bed and sat at her feet. "You look like an Indian chief," Flip said laughing. Paul laughed, too, and then sighed, "I'm so glad you're here!" "Me, too," Flip said.