The dainty jade hand poised above the trash can paused in its motion, then, pinching the box, slowly retracted.
"Take it back, you old rascal!" Jane Sampson huffed as she hurled a whole box at James Black's chest.
Her so-called old rascal caught the stuff with ease, and, striding forward on his long legs, approached her. Jane turned her head and bolted.
James stopped in his tracks and stood there, watching Jane's retreating figure, his lips curving into a smirk.
If you've got the nerve to yank a tiger's whiskers, then have the nerve not to run away, huh.
For the entire afternoon, Jane holed up in the bedroom and didn't come out again. James didn't know whether to stay in the living room or in the study reading a book, and he didn't go in to disturb her memorizing her lines.
By around four, Jane felt sleepy and just laid down on the bed to catch up on some sleep.
This nap lasted until 6 o'clock, and she only woke up when James called her. Even dinner was made by him.
