sitting with!
Curiosity now in full swing, Edwina repositioned herself in order to do some serious eavesdropping. She waited until Milo and his friend were settled in, and then covertly slunk her way through the library and settled into a chair directly behind a column, close enough to hear their conversation.
Milo thought Mary’s punctuality boded well. He regarded her tenderly, standing tentatively in the doorway like that, so unsure of herself, waiting to be rescued by the likes of him. Milo felt suddenly weak, and he was afraid he might faint. As soon as he managed to regain his composure he caught Mary’s attention and motioned her over. Mary glided toward Milo, sat down, and gazed wide-eyed around the splendid Georgian library––with its wood paneled walls, gilded carving on the fireplace, and inviting reading alcoves under arched windows.
“This place is incredible!” she whispered. “Are you sure it’s okay for us to be here?”
“Oh, most definitely. I’ve been coming here for years. You don’t have to be in the Physics Department. It’s not a private club, you know,” Milo said, wishing to come off worldly and urbane.
“Quite the well kept secret,” Mary giggled.
Milo suddenly produced something from his backpack.
“I brought you a little gift, Mary,” he mumbled.
Delighted, Mary took the book from Milo’s hands.
“I hope you don’t already have it,” Milo said. “It’s one of my favorites.”
It was a copy of The Cinema of Cruelty , a collection of film essays by the great French critic, Andre Bazin, edited by Francois Truffaut.
“Oh, Milo!” Mary gushed. “Thank-you so much! How thoughtful!”
The four o’clock chimes sounded on the gilded fleur-de-lys, grandfather clock. On cue, a handful of students rose from their study tables, and walked toward the rear of the library. Milo stood up.
“Come on,” he said. “It’s teatime.”
As she stood in line next to Milo, Mary admired the imposing brass samovar standing like a general on the tea table, commanding troops of china teacups and saucers. She watched, taking careful note, as people in front of her dispensed hot water from its ornate spout. Fearful of embarrassing herself or Milo, she wanted to look like she knew what she was doing when her turn came. Next to the samovar was a basket lined with a vast variety of tea bags, and next to that were all the accoutrements––lemons, sugar, honey, and milk. Mary debated about whether she should take anything from the platter of cookies and scrumptious looking scones, and decided against it.
Once back in their corner spot, Milo summoned the courage to start a conversation.
“I feel awfully sorry for Bunny’s parents and everything,” he began tentatively, “but good riddance to bad rubbish, I say.”
Instead of ingratiating himself, Milo had seemingly shocked Mary, and she glared at him uncomprehendingly. Milo felt instantly shamed and embarrassed. How badly he expressed himself! Now she would think he was an insensitive clod.
Don’t panic! he shouted in his mind.
“It’s wrong to say that, and I apologize,” Milo stammered helplessly, “I just meant that a lot of people were upset by how Bunny took all the credit for the screenplay you obviously wrote ––it really made me mad she did that––and a lot of people didn’t like her because of that––”
He trailed off, feeling shattered and stupid. A few excruciating moments passed.
“I appreciate that, Milo,” Mary said sweetly, flattered by his expression of solidarity.
“It wasn’t any secret that Bunny and I had a falling out,” she went on. “We weren’t even really roommates any more, except maybe technically ––she hardly ever spent time at the apartment, you know. I guess maybe some people thought we were still friends, but I can’t say I’ll miss her.”
Milo’s chest swelled, and his heart burst into song. His beloved Mary was sharing her feelings with him!
“Well,
Curiosity now in full swing, Edwina repositioned herself in order to do some serious eavesdropping. She waited until Milo and his friend were settled in, and then covertly slunk her way through the library and settled into a chair directly behind a column, close enough to hear their conversation.
Milo thought Mary’s punctuality boded well. He regarded her tenderly, standing tentatively in the doorway like that, so unsure of herself, waiting to be rescued by the likes of him. Milo felt suddenly weak, and he was afraid he might faint. As soon as he managed to regain his composure he caught Mary’s attention and motioned her over. Mary glided toward Milo, sat down, and gazed wide-eyed around the splendid Georgian library––with its wood paneled walls, gilded carving on the fireplace, and inviting reading alcoves under arched windows.
“This place is incredible!” she whispered. “Are you sure it’s okay for us to be here?”
“Oh, most definitely. I’ve been coming here for years. You don’t have to be in the Physics Department. It’s not a private club, you know,” Milo said, wishing to come off worldly and urbane.
“Quite the well kept secret,” Mary giggled.
Milo suddenly produced something from his backpack.
“I brought you a little gift, Mary,” he mumbled.
Delighted, Mary took the book from Milo’s hands.
“I hope you don’t already have it,” Milo said. “It’s one of my favorites.”
It was a copy of The Cinema of Cruelty , a collection of film essays by the great French critic, Andre Bazin, edited by Francois Truffaut.
“Oh, Milo!” Mary gushed. “Thank-you so much! How thoughtful!”
The four o’clock chimes sounded on the gilded fleur-de-lys, grandfather clock. On cue, a handful of students rose from their study tables, and walked toward the rear of the library. Milo stood up.
“Come on,” he said. “It’s teatime.”
As she stood in line next to Milo, Mary admired the imposing brass samovar standing like a general on the tea table, commanding troops of china teacups and saucers. She watched, taking careful note, as people in front of her dispensed hot water from its ornate spout. Fearful of embarrassing herself or Milo, she wanted to look like she knew what she was doing when her turn came. Next to the samovar was a basket lined with a vast variety of tea bags, and next to that were all the accoutrements––lemons, sugar, honey, and milk. Mary debated about whether she should take anything from the platter of cookies and scrumptious looking scones, and decided against it.
Once back in their corner spot, Milo summoned the courage to start a conversation.
“I feel awfully sorry for Bunny’s parents and everything,” he began tentatively, “but good riddance to bad rubbish, I say.”
Instead of ingratiating himself, Milo had seemingly shocked Mary, and she glared at him uncomprehendingly. Milo felt instantly shamed and embarrassed. How badly he expressed himself! Now she would think he was an insensitive clod.
Don’t panic! he shouted in his mind.
“It’s wrong to say that, and I apologize,” Milo stammered helplessly, “I just meant that a lot of people were upset by how Bunny took all the credit for the screenplay you obviously wrote ––it really made me mad she did that––and a lot of people didn’t like her because of that––”
He trailed off, feeling shattered and stupid. A few excruciating moments passed.
“I appreciate that, Milo,” Mary said sweetly, flattered by his expression of solidarity.
“It wasn’t any secret that Bunny and I had a falling out,” she went on. “We weren’t even really roommates any more, except maybe technically ––she hardly ever spent time at the apartment, you know. I guess maybe some people thought we were still friends, but I can’t say I’ll miss her.”
Milo’s chest swelled, and his heart burst into song. His beloved Mary was sharing her feelings with him!
“Well,
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