“Oh,” she breathed, caught off guard and instantly effusive, “but it’s glorious.” It was not at all what she had expected to see here; she stepped a little closer to it, captivated, moving into the space Mr. Echelon-Arnost had left for her. “Like something from a fairytale.”
He understood her too well, Callista realised: because she would rather gaze at this living scene of trees all day than any of the dead pages in the forest of books around them. So... of course he must have listened to her when she talked of her interests. She never fully expected people to, somehow – she thought people often held themselves up to conversations like mirrors, more interested in reflecting their own image back than seeing anything beyond themselves. But then Mr. Echelon-Arnost was an exception, and had already gleaned more than she had meant of her passions.
Perhaps it was safer, then, to let herself get more lost in the miniature world of German trees than in the thoughtfulness of the gesture.
He understood her too well, Callista realised: because she would rather gaze at this living scene of trees all day than any of the dead pages in the forest of books around them. So... of course he must have listened to her when she talked of her interests. She never fully expected people to, somehow – she thought people often held themselves up to conversations like mirrors, more interested in reflecting their own image back than seeing anything beyond themselves. But then Mr. Echelon-Arnost was an exception, and had already gleaned more than she had meant of her passions.
Perhaps it was safer, then, to let herself get more lost in the miniature world of German trees than in the thoughtfulness of the gesture.
