"That's not necessarily true," Amelia Clarke leaned her cumbersome body against the sofa backrest, propping a small cushion under her waist, and turned her head to say to Mia Moreland: "You recognized the situation and extracted yourself immediately without becoming obsessively stubborn. That's quite good."
Much better than the likes of Serene Abel by countless times.
Amelia Clarke felt it was good for Mia Moreland to realize that the other party really had no interest and then step away.
"Really?" Mia Moreland's eyes lit up, then dimmed again, "Pity, my luck is pretty bad. The one or two I like, they don't like me."
Amelia Clarke thought about the sketch of Ann Chapman she saw the other day, understanding who she was referring to without pointing it out, only asking, "Have you confessed? Were you rejected?"
