Thérèse couldn't help but chuckle quietly into her free hand, the hand still clutching the rosary beads. "Monsieur, you flatter me. It would be nice, but alas, no wings. I am not an angel." She looked back out of the window, her hand still clasping his. She didn't really want to let go. It was a comfort to have his hands in hers, and the humour did lighten the situation a little.