Instead she finds herself in front of this stranger who praises her in such elaborate ways... If it weren't because she thinks they didn't have time, she could have sworn that this is a joke being played on her by the girls.
Still, the gentleman does manage to get a (quite red) blush on her cheeks. And even a small smile. He may not be particularly handsome (Homely is the best adjective to describe him), but he does have a charming smile.
Their eyes lock for a moment and she looks down, modest and maybe even a bit flustered.
"I do believe that you exaggerate, Monsieur"
Yet, she likes that. There is a something in his praise that others did not manage to reach, as exaggerated as it is. Or maybe it is his eyes, still looking at her. Or that charming smile.
The thing is that she likes it, as blushing and as a loss for words as she is at the moment. Irma, dear. What's wrong with you? You've dealt with men like this one more graciously Indeed, but she couldn't help but feel terribly clumsy at the moment.
"And yet..."
She cuts the phrase before she can continue and regret what she was about to say.
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She had only approached the Café in the hopes she might find her brothers and go together back home, as they used to do some days, and as their mother always insisted, as if Irma weren't capable to defend herself. Though she liked the fact that they would talk and talk about their day when they met, it was sort of amusing.
Instead she finds herself in front of this stranger who praises her in such elaborate ways...
If it weren't because she thinks they didn't have time, she could have sworn that this is a joke being played on her by the girls.
Still, the gentleman does manage to get a (quite red) blush on her cheeks. And even a small smile. He may not be particularly handsome (Homely is the best adjective to describe him), but he does have a charming smile.
Their eyes lock for a moment and she looks down, modest and maybe even a bit flustered.
"I do believe that you exaggerate, Monsieur"
Yet, she likes that. There is a something in his praise that others did not manage to reach, as exaggerated as it is. Or maybe it is his eyes, still looking at her. Or that charming smile.
The thing is that she likes it, as blushing and as a loss for words as she is at the moment. Irma, dear. What's wrong with you? You've dealt with men like this one more graciously
Indeed, but she couldn't help but feel terribly clumsy at the moment.
"And yet..."
She cuts the phrase before she can continue and regret what she was about to say.