Come Sunday night, quite late, James arrived, amid a
thunderstorm and pounding rain. He seemed exhausted, but the remembrance that
his father had met with the girl every night without fail came to him as he was
able to close his bedroom door. He knew where she would be and found her curled
up in same armchair she always sat in. She looked up quickly and in a delighted
tone, said
“Oh, you’re
home! How did it go? Are you hungry?”
“It went
well. I’m much too tired to eat anything.” He said “I just wanted to greet you
and make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine.”
The girl replied “Thank you.”
“For what?”
he seemed more awake and curious.
“You coming
and talking when you’re obviously smashed.”
“Hey, I’m
not drunk.” He said, turning to leave “Get some sleep, child, it’s a school
night. I’m not going to run in the morning.”
“Yes, sir.
You get some sleep.” She replied back, closing the book and turning out the
lights. Truth was, she was dreading the next day and speaking with her tutor
after the rather awkward weekend.
James kept
busy with his tenants for the first two days he was home, so he barely had a
chance to be home, besides to sleep. He still maintained a conversation with
Eleanor, usually in the library or his study to see how she was doing. She
seemed withdrawn and both nights, she was the one who ended the conversation
and went to bed.
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