His lips curling into a faint sneer, he said, "Do I sound particularly proud of it?"

He certainly hadn't begged to join their little circle of misfits, but he had admitted, at least to some degree, that his decisions in his youth had not always been sound.

"Fine," he agreed, and if he felt any sort of pride at having her respect in that regard, he didn't show it. Instead, he pointed her into what was the sitting room. Lyra's father had furnished it quite well, and there was a table and a sofa, along with a chair or two. "Have a seat."