Hildegard unceremoniously grabbed her not designed envelope and revealed, choking with rage, turned to Phoebe, who correctly knew who sent the flowers. A bird caught in a trap. Phoebe, pretending to be uncomprehending, stood at his chair and waited for what would happen next. - I always knew it, - hissed Hildegard - you are exactly the same as your mother. - Thank you. - Hmm ... - Hildegard moved toward Phoebe, trembling hand clutching the note. - Explain what that means. - Can I first read it? - Phoebe asked, deciding that her answer will depend on what the Lord has written Bedrik, Hildegard, and put a note in the outstretched hand of the girl.