She had successfully pressured him into staying, then – if this were a game, she was having fun with it already. He seemed to be... struggling with his tea, and with talking to her, and with keeping the colour of his cheeks from rising, which made him a delightful candidate for her entertainment.
He seemed most comfortable talking about said proof adjustments, which was dull, but – gave her an idea. “Oh, that’s perfect of you!” Mattie said breathlessly, as if nothing in the world could compare to edited fonts of page numbers. “Here,” she suggested, slipping his teacup from his hand and setting them aside, then tugging at his arm to make him stand up with her, “why don’t we put it in his study, ready for you both to go through? That way we won’t disturb Mrs. Cole while we wait, and I can look out the next pages he wants to give you.” Mattie probably could do that, if she wanted – her father made her double-check all his page numbers and indexing anyway, so she knew his study inside and out – but it was not her immediate priority.
Either he would be more relaxed and amenable to humouring her, if he were simultaneously distracted by professional concerns, or he would blush himself into oblivion on the way. They would see. But without allowing him to protest, she curled her fingers around his wrist, in order to lead the way out of the parlour and away from Mrs. Cole’s sleeping form.
He seemed most comfortable talking about said proof adjustments, which was dull, but – gave her an idea. “Oh, that’s perfect of you!” Mattie said breathlessly, as if nothing in the world could compare to edited fonts of page numbers. “Here,” she suggested, slipping his teacup from his hand and setting them aside, then tugging at his arm to make him stand up with her, “why don’t we put it in his study, ready for you both to go through? That way we won’t disturb Mrs. Cole while we wait, and I can look out the next pages he wants to give you.” Mattie probably could do that, if she wanted – her father made her double-check all his page numbers and indexing anyway, so she knew his study inside and out – but it was not her immediate priority.
Either he would be more relaxed and amenable to humouring her, if he were simultaneously distracted by professional concerns, or he would blush himself into oblivion on the way. They would see. But without allowing him to protest, she curled her fingers around his wrist, in order to lead the way out of the parlour and away from Mrs. Cole’s sleeping form.
