But it did not seem to be his own voice that had spoken, nor his own self that had prompted the act.
There was a quick interchange of glances between the departing guest and his late host, in which Flynn's eyes flashed with an odd, admiring fire, but when Clarence raised his head again he was gone.

And as the boy turned back with a broken heart towards the corridor, his cousin laid his hand upon his shoulder.
"Muy hidalgamente, Clarence," he said pleasantly.

"Yes, we shall make something of you!".