Oh no. He leaned back into his own carriage despite her (granted, feeble) attempt at charming wit, and now no doubt he noticed that his favorite and most prized book was now missing, soon he'll interrogate her, and she'll be called a thief, and ruin her hard-won reputation, oh, life was over before it even started--!
"Oh!" Marion wasn't always so squeaky. But she felt herself pressed from all sides with this situation, and utterly incapable of conjuring up a better response than to balk with wide eyes. For the man had turned back to her with less an expression of contempt, and more an expression of amusement as he held in his hand one silver heel. The little glass slipper. He was grinning again, and she had the odd impulse to smile back. In fact she may have, but it was completely by accident, and primarily because she enjoyed being considered a princess.
Of course, smiling at this moment was wildly inappropriate, so Marion pursed her lips to stop it at once.
"Sorry-- ah, thank you-- uhm, sorry," the words tumbled out like she'd entirely forgotten to speak English under his scrutiny, and she haplessly brought both of her hands out from behind her back. "I seemed to have mistook my shoe for your book," she offered, feeling her cheeks go pink again as she couldn't quite meet his discerning eye. The witch offered the book back to him, and hastily retrieved her shoe.
The telltale crunch of gravel announced the impending arrival of his mother, and so Marion skittishly dropped her shoes to the ground with a clatter. There were an odd number of things she supposed this woman would want her to explain, but salaciously bare feet would not be one of them! In haste she lifted her skirts so that she could sweep the shoes underneath her dress. Disguised the motion with a little curtsy and greeting as the lady approached them. Of course, now she was stuck here to the spot. Perhaps she could get away with an idle sway to cleverly maneuver back into the heels?
"Oh!" Marion wasn't always so squeaky. But she felt herself pressed from all sides with this situation, and utterly incapable of conjuring up a better response than to balk with wide eyes. For the man had turned back to her with less an expression of contempt, and more an expression of amusement as he held in his hand one silver heel. The little glass slipper. He was grinning again, and she had the odd impulse to smile back. In fact she may have, but it was completely by accident, and primarily because she enjoyed being considered a princess.
Of course, smiling at this moment was wildly inappropriate, so Marion pursed her lips to stop it at once.
"Sorry-- ah, thank you-- uhm, sorry," the words tumbled out like she'd entirely forgotten to speak English under his scrutiny, and she haplessly brought both of her hands out from behind her back. "I seemed to have mistook my shoe for your book," she offered, feeling her cheeks go pink again as she couldn't quite meet his discerning eye. The witch offered the book back to him, and hastily retrieved her shoe.
The telltale crunch of gravel announced the impending arrival of his mother, and so Marion skittishly dropped her shoes to the ground with a clatter. There were an odd number of things she supposed this woman would want her to explain, but salaciously bare feet would not be one of them! In haste she lifted her skirts so that she could sweep the shoes underneath her dress. Disguised the motion with a little curtsy and greeting as the lady approached them. Of course, now she was stuck here to the spot. Perhaps she could get away with an idle sway to cleverly maneuver back into the heels?