"What good does it do me to lie to you?" The old man said grumpily.
"None." Abigail didn't know why she felt a sweetness she couldn't describe. She didn't care about the old man's bad temper.
Old Mr. Smith snorted coldly. His heart was clearly soft, but he couldn't say anything nice. He asked harshly, "What are your plans for the future?"
This question sent Abigail's mood plummeting. "Probably... I will live my life with this identity."
Her words also darkened the old man's mood. He brooded in silence.
"Let's not discuss such complicated matters. I'll get your things." Abigail finished speaking and hurried to the yard to get the suitcase, afraid her reddening eyes would be noticed by her grandfather.
