In the shadow of the narrow little yard as the enchanted snake winds its rustling way through the planter, Wysteria tilts her face up to look at him.
She'd been halfway through her impromptu book surgery, with the spine cut into pieces and the pages in the delicate process of being resealed, when it had occurred to her that perhaps this battered old thing was precious somehow—as if by changing any part of it, she might be ruining it as a token. After all, the book's pages are very faded and the edges of the cover rather rounded out and banged blunt from the wear of travel. Maybe these things matter. But of course by then it had been rather too late to do anything about it other than carry on and hope for the best.
Some measure of her relief must show clearly in her expression, in her careful (upside-down) examination of him.
"Are you? You must think nothing of it. It really took no time at all," is naturally contradicted by how long she has been in possession of the little book. A printer was consulted. An essay on the subject was read. She is a very poor hand at marbling paper and had ruined the first few sheets of stock she'd attempted to color.
She knows how it must seem and so veers away from that point with all expediency.
no subject
She'd been halfway through her impromptu book surgery, with the spine cut into pieces and the pages in the delicate process of being resealed, when it had occurred to her that perhaps this battered old thing was precious somehow—as if by changing any part of it, she might be ruining it as a token. After all, the book's pages are very faded and the edges of the cover rather rounded out and banged blunt from the wear of travel. Maybe these things matter. But of course by then it had been rather too late to do anything about it other than carry on and hope for the best.
Some measure of her relief must show clearly in her expression, in her careful (upside-down) examination of him.
"Are you? You must think nothing of it. It really took no time at all," is naturally contradicted by how long she has been in possession of the little book. A printer was consulted. An essay on the subject was read. She is a very poor hand at marbling paper and had ruined the first few sheets of stock she'd attempted to color.
She knows how it must seem and so veers away from that point with all expediency.
"Can I ask you something, Mr. Ellis?"