"Rochester!"
The harshness of her call tallied with the clacking of her heels against the sleek marble floors. The woman's velocity thudded down the hall that the housekeeper had to sweep a sudden turn. "It's your mother," disclosed Mrs. Phellipe.
"I know," Rochester bragged. "I can see her well enough from here."
"Then, in that case, I would get on with other duties."
"You do that."
Just as Mrs. Phellipe was about to clear away to the side of the alley, she mildly brushed shoulders with Madam Eloise.
"Can you not watch where you're going?" Eloise spat at her agitatedly, but the housekeeper was soon out of her air as one who'd teleported to any other part of the house that wasn't the third floor.
"What is the meaning of all this madness, son?" Eloise, taking off her gloves in the heat, stabbed his chest with her slap. Actually, it felt more like a blow to his ribs.
"Mother!"
"Why would you do something so cruel to Samantha?" Eloise crowed.
"What did she say I did to her?"
