Theodore Nott

He leans back on the couch, sighing in relief. The red leather upholstery is cool on the back of his neck,and alcohol makes him dizzy. The atmosphere of the mansion is conducive to idle thoughts, and he decides not to deny himself this small pleasure. An image of a delicate girl with a smell of cherry and vanilla, in a shirt buttoned to all the buttons and a skirt that invariably covers her knees, rises before his eyes. He still did not understand when he began to catch her face in the crowd, but the image of the "holy virgin" left no chance. He couldn't bear to defame her innocence. It turns out that the notes left under the door every day along with a bouquet of flowers have a strong effect on a girl's mind. His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of heels and the opening of the door. A devilish grin spreads across his face: she's smoking in the house again, and wearing that awfully short dress. There's not a trace of the "right girl" left. –"Honey,did you want something?"