 Thirteen years ago, I was six. What she means is that she was six when she died. But I didn't die, Anthony Sweet. Obviously, but Magda Crail did, with my mother. His mother. Anthony says he doesn't remember me as a child, but I remember him, the brat. What about me? When I was about four or five, you were eight or nine, I suppose, do you remember dressing up in one of Daddy's tailcoats, a sword, and Mother's hat with a plume? Suppose I did. You're still not my sister. Don't worry, Anthony.