The flower that was being turned back and forth between Mr. Frey's long fingers fell to the ground.
“Fifteen?” He looked up at her in disbelief. “I thought you to be a seventh grader! Merlin above, your maman is right about me, I am a dog.”
Someone seemed to have deflated Victor. All the air of excitement exited his person.
“That means it might be one or two years at least until you are introduced, might it not?” he asked unhappily.

How could he have erred so decisively? Remembering names and faces, judging age - why was it he seemed so much worse at this than he ought to be? She looked perfectly womanly, not like just out the drawstrings. Granted, she was a tiny sweet thing, but most women appeared as tiny things to him. It was puzzling.

Suddenly the possibility appeared to him that he might be hurting her feelings. He directed his gaze towards her countenance and tried to decode if that was the case, narrowing his green eyes in a show of intense concentration.
“Please, do not be upset. Do not let me disturb your lovely bright spirit. This was my fault. I just thought…”
That I might have a chance, if not right now, then very soon. He left the last part unspoken, but it was in the air.