I'm sorry, Elsie's Seven Loves aren't writing themselves very well. I will try to update it tomorrow.
3. Romance
"Crawley! Crawley! Over here, I've got someone I want you to meet!"
Isobel shakes her head a little and smiles. Her father's not by any means a loud man, but when he's in comfortable surroundings he can sometimes be exuberant, to say the least. And the surroundings at the Manchester Annual Science Convention are the most comfortable he could possibly be. Mother doesn't strictly approve of him bringing Isobel along with him, she considers it a man's place. "But, why not?" he says always, "The girl's keen enough!" As it happens, this time they haven't actually told her where they're going.
"I want you to meet someone," Daddy tells her, "Young Crawley, my assistant. I think you'll like him. Where's that confounded man got to? Ah! Here he is! Isobel, this is my assistant, Reginald Crawley. Crawley, my daughter, Isobel."
For once Isobel doesn't notice the swell of pride in her father's voice as he pronounces her his daughter. She's busy looking at Crawley. His looks are rather striking- that's before taking those eyes into account-, but you can tell by his manner that he doesn't think so himself. He blinks politely at her and inclines his head as she extends her hand for him to shake.
"How do you do?" she asks.
"Nicely, thank you,"
Despite his meek aspect, there is a definite twinkle in his eye and it does not escape her. Stop it, Isobel!- she thinks to herself. You have always maintained that this kind of thing simply can't exist at first sight, why are you trying to throw yourself into it? It occurs to her that she hasn't let go of his hand yet.
"Crawley has been helping me at the new surgery," her father explains, "I thought you two might be interesting company for each other; a lot in common and so on. Ah! There's Johnson over there, I must have a word with him, excuse me!"
He nods to Reginald and vanishes, as he is given to do, into to crowd, leaving them standing together.
There is a pause.
"So, Miss-..."
"Isobel," she corrects him.
"Isobel. What sort of science interests you?" he begins pleasantly; genuine interest in his tone.
"Oh, most sorts," she realises that probably sounds terribly vague and not at all intelligent, "Not so keen on physics. I rather favour medicine."
"Yes, your father told me that was the case."
They both glance across the room to where he is conversing with one of his other colleagues, with great enthusiasm and much gesticulating.
"Do you find my father eccentric, Dr Crawley?"
"Very."
"Oh, I am glad," she says to him, "I shouldn't have thought you had any sense of humour otherwise."
He grins quite a roguish grin. Stop it, Isobel.
"No, your father makes for quite an interesting mentor," he replies, "And very insistent that I should be here today."
"Which of the exhibitions did he think would interest you?" she wants to know.
He shuffled a little.
"Actually, it wasn't so much of an exhibition. It was you."
Her heart well nigh stopped.
"Well," she always did talk nonsense in situations like this, "I trust I've probably made an exhibition of myself. Do you find me interesting?"
Heaven preserve them, she was being coy! Thankfully, he laughs at her.
"Very."
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