Oh: she had expected something more mundane than that. The food, or the music or the weather, the history or architecture – polite things that people said. An increase in development, he had said instead. That was – political, she supposed; that was more typical talk for conversation with gentlemen than ladies. So she didn’t think it was silly at all, it was the very opposite. Callista didn’t know how she felt about it – she was curious, but cautious – but she had decided Mr. Echelon-Arnost (if he had returned to find a bride) needed an atypical, intelligent wife. Someone who spoke unexpectedly and directly, perhaps, like Johanna Applegate; or someone clever and confident, like Torie Malfoy; or someone who had firm opinions on things and could argue them, as Genia could. (But maybe not Genia, particularly: someone equally strong of character was a good match, but Mr. Echelon-Arnost was perhaps a little... radical.)
But if she considered this conversation an investigation for someone else’s sake, and not her own, she needn’t worry so much what she thought about him, did she? “Surprising, maybe, but not silly,” she admitted. “I think you would like Lagos, then. It always seems to have changed a great deal again every time we visit.” New railways and port development and urban expansion and a flourishing new culture, facilitated by British meddling, maybe, but very much dependent on national ingenuity. After all, she listened when her father and her brothers spoke. She lowered her tone, in case someone thought her gossiping about her own family; she was – joking, mostly. “I suspect my grandmother still rather finds Britain quite backwards, sometimes.”
But if she considered this conversation an investigation for someone else’s sake, and not her own, she needn’t worry so much what she thought about him, did she? “Surprising, maybe, but not silly,” she admitted. “I think you would like Lagos, then. It always seems to have changed a great deal again every time we visit.” New railways and port development and urban expansion and a flourishing new culture, facilitated by British meddling, maybe, but very much dependent on national ingenuity. After all, she listened when her father and her brothers spoke. She lowered her tone, in case someone thought her gossiping about her own family; she was – joking, mostly. “I suspect my grandmother still rather finds Britain quite backwards, sometimes.”
