NovelOnlineRoseanne clearly had just woken up, dressed in a cozy set of pajamas adorned with cartoon bears, her eyes still a bit red from sleep.
She yawned, a slow, sluggish yawn, her reactions noticeably slower than usual.
"Did I wake you?" The old house was poorly insulated, and often, even with doors closed, one could hear footsteps in the hallway. Owen thought he might have been the cause of her disturbed sleep. Rubbing her eyes, Roseanne shook her head. "I was about to get up anyway, it's already half-past six." She had plans to go shopping with Nola in the afternoon, so she needed to get up early to work on her thesis and sift through research material.
Seeing her still groggy, Owen's voice softened. "It's still early; you could catch smore sleep if you want." Before he could finish, he was met with Roseanne's scrutinizing gaze, making him pause. "Why are you looking atlike that?" "Do you have a cold?" she asked.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtUh-oh! Owen managed a smile. "You noticed?" "Your voice sounds a bit hoarse. Do you have a fever?" He touched his forehead, trying to check if he had a fever. "I don't know... can't really tell. Probably not," he said.
Roseanne couldn't help but be exasperated. "Mr. Reynolds, 'probably not'? Is that something a meticulous researcher should say?" Owen chuckled. "Well, I don't have a thermometer at home..." "I do. Go back inside, and I'll bring it over to you." "Alright." After finding the thermometer in her drawer and sanitizing it thoroughly, Roseanne made her way to Owen's place.
He was already lying on the couch, a picture of discomfort, his shoes forgotten in his malaise - a stark contrast to his usual meticulous self.
Approaching quietly, she called out softly, "Professor Reynolds? Professor?" No response came, prompting her concern and a closer approach. "Professor?" Suddenly, he opened his eyes.
Their gazes locked.
Owen found himself gazing into her small, slightly bewildered face, watching her eyelashes tremble and flutter like butterfly wings, each flutter tugging at his heartstrings.
Relieved, Roseanne handed him the thermometer. "Professor, give this a try. I called you a couple of times; you gavequite the scare." "Okay." The reading indicated that he had a high fever.
"You need to see a doctor." He waved off the suggestion. "Smedicine should do." "Do you have any at home?" Owen admitted, "No." Sighing, Roseanne said, "I have sat mine. I'll go get it. I've got scold medicine too; taking it with fever reducers should help." "Thank you." After ensuring he took the medicine, Roseanne went to wash the cup and found him asleep upon her return. She covered him with a blanket and quietly left.
Millie felt disheartened by Murray's indifference.
It seemed no matter what she said or did, she was always in the wrong in his eyes.
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So, the next day, after learning from Sadie about Beverley's plans, Millie orchestrated a chance encounter at the mail Beverley intended to visit, having heard about a new line of handbags and clothes that had just arrived. The unexpected meeting led to an impromptu shopping trip together.
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