-She always seems to be reasonable-
Third person's POV
He scoffed light. “No.” She shook her head. “No, you have no idea what our life is like. I’m not worried about embarrassment, not the way you might feel it if you used a word incorrectly at the dinner table. ” she shook her head again, a feeling suspiciously like fear gnawing at her stomach.
“I’m worried about humiliation on a grand scale, the loss of life as I and Janis know it, the casting out of my entire family from the social strata where we live, where we’ve always lived.” Her words became more heated as she spoke her frustration making her voice shake. “You’ve never lived anywhere as far as I can tell. What do you know of society, of community, of the deep attachments of home, friends, and family? You don’t understand that everything can be lost with just one wrong step. Janis has made that wrong step and now it's up to me to save her.” She stopped, hating the fact that she was losing control, hating how she sounded and look of contempt that would not leave his face. She had to get back to the point. She needed him, perceptions and all.
Eventually, it wouldn’t matter what he thought of their lifestyle. He would be the instrument of restoring its order and then he would leave.
“You don’t understand,” she said again, striving for calm. You don’t understand the- the intricacies of our life, our culture. We cannot leave it the way you leave towns through which you may pass. We love our home and so we must do all we can to preserve our life there.
Summer gazed at her now, his contempt fading, but instead of concession to or even comprehension of the possible merits of her points, she saw pity in his eyes. The man felt crazily sorry for her. The notion called her. She cleared her throat and stood. She had to leave. The point was best dropped.
“Well, regardless It appears obvious that we shall never see eye to eye on this issue.” She turned and strode two steps toward the door then turned Back, her expression somewhat more in other.
“Shall I see you at breakfast then? Or will your romantic scruples keep you away?” In the dim, flickering, lamplight, his eyes were black, but mouthbrooding. He leaned against the mantle, but there was a wariness to the set of his shoulders, an aloofness in the tilt of his head. Mimi thought she heard derision in his tone. She waited a moment for a wry chuckle or a flash of the self-deprecating warmth she’d grown accustomed to, but there was nothing. An only dark stillness of his face.
“Good night, then,” she said.
He responded by turning away.
It wasn’t until she was halfway to her room, replaying the conversation line in her head that she realized what had been nagging at the back of her mind. Mr. Summer’s English was good- quite good, fucking good, like good fucking good. Perhaps too good but why does he pretend he doesn't know how to speak a good fluent American English?, his writings are neater and more beautifying than that of me and Matthew, he had courtesy but act like he doesn't , sometimes the way he walks and eat and sits ...... there is something about him that he is simply not willing to share.
They made arrangements to leave St. Mali two and a half week after arriving. Mimi telegraphed Janis to inform her of their projected arrival for her to meet them. They will stay one night in Licando and the whole group will leave for New York. The thought of going back to New York produced mixed feelings in Mimi. She was more than ready to be home in her own house with all of her things in wardrobe instead of trunks. She yearned to reclaim her room with its daily vases of fresh flowers and her bed it's crisp linen sheets that always smells torques. But she was afraid of returning, too. She was terrified of turning Mr. Summer Ruse society. She was nervous about Janis and her off-key cutting tones and what she might do to Mr. Summer’s self-confidence with her sarcasm and apathy.
Mimi was most particularly afraid of her father’s possible rejection of this unexpected guest who would ask for his youngest daughters hand so quickly no more than a month after their return. However, the feeling overwhelming all of these fears, positively dwarfing them with its potency, was the jealousy she was afraid would resurface when Mr. Summer proposed to Janis. It didn’t matter that it was all arranged that he was to do it no matter what his feelings for her sister were. What mattered was Mimi would lose him as soon as Mr. Summer was accepted by Janis, she would be cast out of his inner circle forever.
He wondered at the sort of people he could meet. What are they like, these peoples who would “cut you,” as Matthew put it if you forgot an “ING” or an ”am”? Why had he agreed to return to a place with such a ruthless society? and was Mimi as ruthless as she’d seemed that day arguing with Matthew? It had unnerved him that heartlessness and it made him angry. He hadn’t explained it very well to her but her blindness to the real issue at hand was a shock to him. She’d always seemed so reasonable, so perceptive but she couldn’t see herself. She couldn’t see the blatant way she was putting reputation above truth. The danger in that was obvious to Mr. Summer, but to Mimi, it seemed a matter of course, of self-preservation.
They pushed and squeezed through the crowds towards the platform. " Oh, Matthew" Mimi called. Matthew stopped in front of her, where he’d acted as something of a blocker and turned.
“There’s a piece of news we must see if you can get us a newspaper, will you?” Matthew nodded and started after the boy.
“You got him trained pretty well, Miss McCarthy,′ Mr. Summer said staring after the man wondering if he would be expected to jump at every command the way Matthew did.
Mimi didn’t answer. She glanced up at him with a stern look, then leaned on her slender umbrella and let her eyes follow Matthew. Angell sighed and looked around. He’d brought it on himself, he guessed. He’d withdrawn from her. Even now he was hesitant about gisting with her about returning to his old-old albeit improper- familiarity. He had no right to try to get close to her and he certainly didn’t have the right to judge her.
The distance between them was fitting, it was safe and it was necessary. The kiss had been an impulse and it served him right if he couldn’t forget about it once he’d done it.
As he glanced around the platform, his eye was caught by a movement, quick and sly amidst the slow and herd-like multitudes. He craned his neck for a better look. It was near the stairs, where people parted after descending to avoid the pillar situated at the base. He stared into the crowd, searching. When he turned back, Matthew approached with a newspaper and a handful of hot pretzels. Irrigation flickered across the man's face as he was jostled by someone in a business suit and he very nearly dropped one of the snacks.
Mr. Summer tried, glanced back to where the black-clad man had been but the man on business suit disappeared completely. Scanning the crowd for another fleet movement or any sign whatsoever, he saw nothing.
He’d have felt better to have seen him again before boarding- just to be sure-but the man was gone. No doubt some common pickpocket, Angell told himself. But he couldn’t shake the way his scalp prickled.
Once again, he turned swiftly to look behind him but there was nothing and this time Mimi looked up at him strangely at long last, the train doors opened and the three of them made their way forward. Before stepping over the threshold, Angell paused and glanced back one more. 'Zero.' The man was gone. Even so, Angell could not stop thinking about him and his slight resemblance to Valerian Bratt.
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