Surprise flashed across Henri’s face as he looked into her earnest eyes, and he nearly laughed - not at her, exactly, but at the sheer wonder of her, and of her overspilling heart. Charity had not been on his mind when he had spoken of the hole in his life once filled by politics; in fact, it was precisely charity’s lack of direction, however noble the intentions, that made him long for what he had had in Paris. Feeding hungry people was good, yes, but it would not stop them from going hungry again - not in Paris, and not in Darrow, either, he suspected.

Not that Combeferre imagined refusing Sybil’s suggestion - not even for a moment. Hungry people did not care about the bigger picture, and certainly not on Christmas. You have spent too much time around Enjolras, to be worrying about such matters,, he thought ruefully, though with a pang of homesickness.

“You are remarkable,” he said, and he did laugh with fondness. He took one of her hands in both of his. “That is a wonderful idea, ma cherie."