[Titanic] Ticket

Before Leicester fell asleep, Carl came over from his room. The young man watched him with some amusement from the disgust of the sheets to the pillows, from the furnishings to the lights. Lester even suspected that if it wasn't for his status, he was very He might drill into every corner and find out the dust and insects hidden in the corners and count them one by one-just for his endless perfectionistic obsessive-compulsive disorder.

"I'm really going to sleep, Mr. Hockley. If you don't want me to drive you out, tidy up and lie down under the quilt, okay?" Lester yawned, his sleepy eyes tilted on the pillow, "Shut up A lamp, thank you."

"You should sleep in my room." Carl grumbled, finally willing to put the seventeenth-century silver lily decoration back in place, crawled slowly onto the bed, and wrapped his arms around Les Special waist, buried his head in his neck.

Lester tilted his head timidly, and said with a chuckle, "Suppose you don't want Miss Catherine to drive me out of the White Cuckoo tomorrow, so don't make her look too ugly, Carl."

"What's the difference now?"

"It's probably the difference between the male host's love affairs and involuntary feelings, and the male guest's hunger, thirst, and mischievous intentions. Good night, dear, I'm really sleepy."

Carl sniggered foolishly for a while, reached out to turn off the light, and kissed him on the cheek: "Good night, boy."

……

Probably because of the high bed and soft pillows, Lester violated his biological clock for the first time and almost slept until midnight. When he went downstairs, only Carl and Catherine were sitting at the dining table. The former was flipping through a book that was at least five centimeters thick. The newspaper—probably a three-in-one—has a rather ugly face, while the latter is weaving a fruit green hollow lace bracelet that looks complicated, and is frowning with some trouble, looking also in a deadlock.

"Good morning, both of you."

"Good morning, Lester." Carl's eyes softened a little, and he exchanged an intimate kiss on the cheek with Lester, before ordering the maid standing beside him to prepare breakfast—May looked as if she was forgiven, God knows what she He was almost made to faint by his most beloved young lady.

"Okay, let's solve it one by one." Lester walked around behind Catherine. The little girl was really focused on the work at hand, but to be honest, it was such a mess. She probably made it all morning, and the finished product was not even finished One knuckle is long and the pattern is chaotic. It is hard to imagine that the obsessive-compulsive disorder passed down in the Hockley family has not driven her crazy.

"It's been disassembled more than a dozen times this morning, boy. I was so anxious for her. If you ask me, the Hockley family really doesn't have this kind of craftsmanship." Carl turned over a page of the newspaper, probably not good news this morning, His eyes were sharp as a knife, and he seemed eager to pierce the thick stack of newspapers.

Catherine replied without raising her head: "But I promised Emily that I will make her a birthday present myself."

"No need for that, copy a poem—Shelley's or whoever, that's all you like?" Carl murmured impatiently.

Lester patted Catherine on the shoulder—this little girl is really thin, and said gently: "Don't listen to him, what pattern do you want?"

"Scented iris, that is the symbol of Viscount Fanning's house."

Lester took the crochet needle in her hand, picked it up a few times quickly, and removed the messy ones, then re-knitted a few lines and handed them to the little girl—the iris was lifelike, and Catherine fondled it , asked in surprise: "How do you know this?"

Lester stroked the little girl's hair: "When I was a child, I couldn't live any longer. My mother and I would earn some living expenses by doing some manual work, as well as sweaters and long scarves. If you like, I can also do it in the future." teach you."

Catherine's eyes twinkled, and she whispered, "Sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned it."

"It's all over, and I'm doing well now, aren't I?" Lester replied indifferently, "Do you understand? Let me teach you again?"

"If you want." The little girl nodded reservedly, staring earnestly at Lester's fingers, that expression was so rare and cute that even Carl gave him a sideways glance.

It took some effort for Lester to get Catherine to remember the weaving method. Carl's newspaper had already been turned to the end—he seemed ready to read it for the second time. Lester sat beside him with a milk glass, When he saw one of the pages of the New York Times, his eyebrows were slightly raised, and his expression looked a little strange: "Hmm, I really didn't expect-when did they change to entertainment gossip? Let me tell you, Mrs. Bucket is still on the list." A good photo."

"This stupid and greedy woman, she will never know how to restrain herself." Carl slapped the newspaper on the table—the movement was not small, and Lester's toast plate was shaken a few times, and Catherine's black tea was also carried Turned out some.

Lester pointed his slender fingers slightly at the table, thought for a while before smiling and said: "It's not too bad, at least it can stabilize your father, my dear."

Karl raised his face and looked at him with shrewd and sharp eyes. Catherine also frowned, as if she had some opinions on this.

Lester picked up the newspaper and flipped through it twice. His blond hair hung down on his browbones, making it hard to see his expression: "You really think I don't mind at all? Carl, if she's worthless, I'll Why keep her."

Catherine glanced at him quickly, and said cautiously: "...At least in this regard, you conform to the Hockley family's aesthetics."

"Thank you for your compliment." Lester smiled, looking insincere.

Carl didn't seem to want to continue this topic anymore, he cleared his throat, and raised an invitation that was pressed under the newspaper: "It's from the Strauss family, inviting us to have a gathering at Macy's in the afternoon, it's really not creative Already, actually."

Lester took it over and looked at it, then put it aside casually: "The butler will arrange these properly, won't he?"

"Of course. Whether it's Lovejoy or Henry, they are rare good talents." Carl said proudly.

……

At noon, Ruth was clamoring to leave the White Cuckoo with Jack—she had apparently seen the paper, too, and got into a "[-]% chance that she'd still be with Carl Hockley, who's full of money and doesn't love him at all." In the deep horror of her capitalist marriage".

Carl and Lester are undoubtedly in love, but this does not mean that they can really live together under the same roof as husband and wife. After a long time, there will always be rumors, and if this matter touches the old Huo With Kerry, this is not something that can be easily resolved.

At this time, a superficial wife can solve all problems. As long as the family's reputation is preserved, Old Hockley will just turn a blind eye and pretend that he doesn't know what's going on—not to mention that Ruth doesn't love Carl yet. It couldn't be better.

"Jack and I have to go—now—right away, as fast as possible!" Ruth hurried into the living room, Jack followed behind her, looking helpless, Lester greeted him and said hello to him. Kindly inquired about lunch.

Carl slowly chopped up the lamb chops on the plate, asked for a small glass of black pepper juice, and said with a blank expression: "Mrs. Bucket, what do you think?"

Ruth, who was sitting at the other end of the table, gave Ruth a hard look, and her voice was sweet and soft as if it contained honey: "She was just in a daze for a while—how could we hope to leave the white cuckoo! Here is such a beautiful and lovely where, and Catherine—”

"Hockley, thank you. You and I are not close yet." Catherine raised her eyelids, and her dissatisfaction was about to overflow from her face - Mrs. Bucket opened her mouth and uttered a few stupid words , meaningless modal particles, and then I couldn’t say a single word.

Carl finally finished his lunch and forced a stiff smirk at Ruth: "Dear Miss Buckett, I think you've really forgotten the huge bills you have left with me - legally binding, I I think you know what that means. Even if Mrs. Bucket has been a weaver all her life, she won't be able to get the change out of it."

Ruth took a deep breath, her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were full of anger: "What do you want me to do?"

Carl raised his chin slightly: "Finish this scene until I don't need you. During this period, you and Dawson can live in the White Cuckoo. Bytheway, you don't have to appear in front of us if you have nothing to do. It's so frustrating." appetizing."

Jack grabbed Ruth who was about to get angry, and stared at Carl hard: "Are you sure you won't marry her?"

"It depends." Carl curled his lips, his eyes were cold.

Jack glanced at Lester, who seemed unresponsive, and smirked like him: "Don't regret saying this, Hockley. Besides, even if it is death, I will not let her marry you."

……

When Carl got into the carriage, he was still saying to Lester that "Dawson really speaks better than he sings, and he probably got Ruth with his mouth".

Lester leaned against the car window, the flannel curtains were lifted a little, he looked at the busy street indifferently, and didn't know what he was thinking.

It wasn't until Carl was finally willing to turn over this article that Lester lazily said, "Don't be naive, Carl. Every time you and Jack face off, it's as if your IQ has not reached its full limit."

Carl closed his mouth firmly, and after a while Lester leaned against him as if sleepy, his head shaking with the bumps of the carriage, Carl looked at the two thick light-colored balls in the young man's eyes The eyelashes softened inexplicably.

"How about calling you when we arrive?"

Lester didn't answer, as if he was asleep.