"Um... Amelia, I won't bother you two any longer, I just remembered I have something else to do..." Viola Harris stood up, wanting to slip away. After saying a casual "bye" to Amelia Clarke and Dorothy Brown, she politely said "goodbye" to Owen Moreland, picked up her purse and shopping bags, and left swiftly as if on wheels.
"You actually didn't need to come; I'm alright," Amelia extended her index finger and lightly hooked the man's finger, shaking it coquettishly, and said, "It's delayed your important work again."
Owen Moreland didn't say anything. He raised his hand to touch Amelia's hair. His palm was thick and fell heavy on her head. This sense of heaviness gave Amelia a deep sense of security.
The small hand that hooked his finger quietly interlocked with his indx finger.
Owen Moreland sharply sensed the girl's palm to be warm and moist, his gaze suddenly grew heavy.
Unless it was an illness, a person's palms typically sweat only when they are nervous or afraid.
