Samuel Johnson did not get a response from Amanda Smith and could not help but sigh.
"You can take a rest, do you want to eat something? I'll bring it over to you later?"
"..."
No response.
He sighed again helplessly and then turned to walk towards the door.
When he left, he still locked the door as usual.
Samuel Johnson descended the stairs, where the delightful scent of chicken soup wafted through the air. He sniffed it and thought of Amanda, whose complexion was looking so poor; once he had finished his breakfast, he would have to bring her up a bowl to nourish her.
Mrs. Johnson was just returning from walking the dog, her Pomeranian leaping from her arms. Enticed by the scent of the chicken soup in the air, it barked and dashed into the kitchen.
Samuel turned and entered the kitchen, addressing the cook who had been making chicken soup since early morning: "Who is this soup for?"
