The girl in the simple black woollen dress fiddled with her hands, a mild smile dancing on her lips. It had been too easy—she had not expected to cover up the actual culprit behind her previous gloominess but she was happy at what she'd said. Her words had left a lasting impression on him; she was sure of it.
Behind her, Rochester stood his place, the breeze stabbing hard upon his cheeks, his hairy brows had since furrowed and grown darker.
"What do you mean by that person being the reason for your discomfort in my house?" his orbs shone an iridescence of darker brown under the gloomy weather.
"I beg your pardon!" cried the girl, twisting a long-overdue turn. Her blazing eyes said more than what she'd aimed.
"So…" Rochester coughed a wistful laugh, "apart from being a manipulator, you have also become an atrocious liar?"
That was the last straw!
Slapping her hands against her skirt, Louisa walked furiously to where he was.
"You will not say a word like that to me again!"
