Dinner was ready.
Norris had no appetite.
She listlessly picked at her rice with her chopsticks, putting them down after just a few bites.
"Mr. Smith, I'm going to rest upstairs."
She got up gracefully, said a word to Treton, and went upstairs.
Treton looked at her half-eaten bowl of rice, his face somewhat unpleasant.
A servant attending to him carefully suggested, "Mr. Smith, it's inevitable that Miss Moore has a poor appetite after falling sick. Should I make her some yam porridge later to stimulate her appetite?"
She could tell that Treton was concerned about Norris falling sick and wanted to show her goodwill.
Treton averted his gaze and responded indifferently.
"Infuse that medicine later, and I'll give it to her."
"Yes, sir."
******
As Treton went upstairs, he found Norris freshly out of the shower and blow-drying her hair by the window.
Seeing her in a thin garment, his face darkened again.
