บท 7: Chapter 7

He sat behind his desk in the shop, which also served as a counter, fidgeting until he found a comfortable position for his now aching hip, and picked up his quill. He had barely opened his ledger when the doorbell tinkled and in he came like a glimmer of sunshine in an otherwise bleak world. He glanced up and frowned. The lad looked wet through and frozen half to death again. His coat was hopelessly inadequate, and his hat was ragged. His hair was scraped back against his skull, and Lawrence was certain that if it were to be washed it would be a soft, golden colour. As it was, it was difficult to tell. His eyebrows and lashes were fair though, framing light blue eyes that either brimmed with intelligence and enthusiasm, or wariness and caution.

“Good morning, Mr. Shaw,” he said, peering over the top of the spectacles he now needed when working with the ledgers.