Matthew laughed bitterly at Stephen's first remark. "Oh, no, Stephen. She's really quite-- sane, really, given what her beloved father put her through! She always called him Papa you know -- even when we returned to England; Father was stationed abroad for most of my childhood, you understand -- but as I said, even when we returned to England, she still spoke to him only en francais -- mostly because when we were in France, he'd ignore us if we spoke to iim in Ennglsh! It's the idea of one-parent, one-language method of raising bilingual children, taken to an extreme, really -- as Father always did things, it seems!
"I mean, HONESTLY, Stephen, to think of that old son-of-a-bitch having sex with his own DAUGHTER...! And... the things I'm imagining about all those nights, when I heard her crying -- no doubt after he was gone -- but still... I might have at least checked on her! I mean, I was a better father figure to her, at age eight, than our father ever was...!" He held a hand to his face, which was burning up with his blush at such thoughts as he was having just then! "And yet, I still was an ungodly horrible one for her! I ought to have checked on her...!"
He drank half his goblet in one long swig, and reached for the bottle again -- determined to forget the lewd images writhing across his mind's eye just then. "I mean-- oh...!" He was also very glad to get off the subject of his father and his sister, quite honestly, and leapt on the change of subject. "Ahhh, I see...! So... what sorts of odd jobs are you doing?" His voice was slightly strangled as he attempted to help with the subject change; no doubt all the tannins in the wine had dried out his throat... "Please, don't, Stephen...! I mean, those cigarettes will kill you one of these days...!"