"No. I had heard about you and your classes," I said.
"Oh?" His doubting smile lingered. "I'm flattered. However, maybe it's because I'm working on Othello at the moment, but I have a healthy
skepticism for the obvious these days," he said. "Especially people's motives?' He glanced at his watch. "Care to take a cup of tea with me? There's a little cafe I fancy right next door."
I hesitated.
"We could talk more about Shakespeare," he added with a different sort of smile now, one of glee. He was toying with me, but he was very interested in me, too.
"I don't have much time," I said. "I have to be back to help with my dinner chores."
"Oh? An American student in London working her way. Now you do have my interest, Miss Arnold. Indulge me a few minutes. After all, you owe me that much for all the free knowledge and insight you took from my class today," he said.
I couldn't help but smile.
"Okay," I said. "A few minutes."
"Right this way," he said and led me around to the cafe. We sat at a corner table near the front where we could look out at the hustle and bustle on the street.
"I imagine you would like coffee rather than tea," he said.
"No, English breakfast tea is fine. I've grown used to it," I said. He nodded and ordered for us. "I'm a mif," I added when the waitress left.
"Excuse me?"
"Milk in first."
"Oh." He laughed. "Yes. I do have some friends who are very serious about that." He leaned back and turned his head slightly so he was looking at me from an angle. "Seems you've learned a great deal about this country already. How long have you been here?"
"Not that long, but I've had good teachers, especially the cook at the house I'm at," I said.
"How did you come to this house?"
"My grandmother arranged it," I said. "Actually, she's primarily responsible for my being here at all and studying performing arts."
"I see. She must have quite a bit of faith in you."
"I don't know why she should," I said. "She hasn't known me all that long."
"Oh?"
The waitress brought our two teapots and I put my milk in first and poured a cup. He watched me before pouring his own.
"And why is it that your grandmother hasn't known you all that long?" he asked as he took his first sip of tea. He held the cup so that he peered over it at me. His eyes were full of interest, but the intensity of his stare suggested he was being more than curious. I started to get a little nervous.
"It's a long story," I said.
"And you don't have much time. I know. Well," he said, putting his cup down and gazing at it, "I have a confession to make." He looked up. "I've seen you before. Twice in fact, so that when I saw you in my class, I recognized you."
I felt my body freeze.
"I don't think you're a stalker or anything, but you have piqued my curiosity. I must confess, however, that you made my wife a little nervous. You've been in our neighborhood recently. She pointed you out to me one day and said you were there, across the street from our house the day before and the day before that. Is that so?" he asked.
I was shocked to know I had actually been discovered and yet he had never come out to see who I was.
"It's a very small, close neighborhood, easy to spot
strangers, especially if they're repeat strangers," he added with a smile.