М. Stewart

It was also true that, as Comte de Valmy, Philippe might legitimately
claim that he was a cypher in his own house, but he was only nine, and
moreover a Paris-bred stranger. His uncle and aunt did ignore him to a
large extent, but his daily routine with its small disciplines and lack of
what one might call cosy family life was very much the usual one for a boy
in his position.
I added, rather lamely: "You couldn't have a better trustee."
Philippe shot me one of his looks. The shutters were up in his face
again. He said politely and distantly: "No, mademoiselle," and looked away.

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