by Abigail Agar
“No, no, thank you. I am quite all right for now,” he said.
“Very well. I shall take some time to clean up and will be back shortly. Should you need anything in the meantime, ring the bell, and I shall come at once,” she said.
With that, she curtseyed again, this time with her arms quite full, and departed from the room, leaving Ronan once more on his own.
Yes, he found himself remembering some of the things Harold had said to him at that moment. He had been so awful of late. Even before this had happened, he had been an arrogant man, and he saw very little flaw in that.
But since the attack? Now, he was in a constant rage, never happy with what was going on around him, and determined that he would have his vengeance. Unfortunately, he took it out on those who surrounded him. He was rude to them instead of being grateful for the assistance that they provided.
Did he really have to change? The idea of it was unpleasant, and he was not entirely certain how to go about shifting his perspective.
It was Miss Philips who had managed to shake the way he had seen things. Maybe, Ronan began to think, he ought to pay attention.
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