Well. I. Yes, that is-- That is a fair point. It is just that I-- do not wish to presume, or offend, or--

[And then abruptly he turns around and opens the cupboard again and gets out a slim volume, hand-bound. Its cover proclaims its title: BUTTERFLIES OF THE FREE MARCHES. Just as abruptly, he adds it to the stack and pushes it all closer to Athessa, then takes a step back.

There.]

You may distribute them to the sister as-- as you see fit. I will not interfere or, um. Yes. Just--as you will.

And thank you.