In the Turner Family, after dinner, the servants were not allowed to appear casually in the main villa. Once Oliver Turner had been settled, two servants brought him some water for washing his face and hurriedly left.
Oliver lay there, Clara sitting on the bedside, wringing a damp towel to wipe his face.
"Uncle Oliver, if I've done something wrong, you can tell me. Why torment yourself like this? You know I'll feel heartache because of it."
"Heartache? Would you still feel that?" Oliver cast a sidelong glance at her.
Clara's eyes grew slightly wet. "Why must you ask questions you already know the answer to?"
"Do I still matter to you?"
Clara focused her gaze on him, tears in her eyes pooling more intensely.
"That's another question you already know the answer to."
"Then why marry someone else?"
"I want to marry you. Would you take me as your wife?" Clara sniffled, her voice soft.
Oliver studied her closely. She resembled her mother in certain ways.
