"I'm already Mrs. Hallow now, do you think I'm not good enough?" Charlotte Miller said with a hint of defiance, glaring at Atlas Hallow.
"Do you think an excellent Mrs. Hallow is someone who stays at home, never steps out, and can't even talk to men, abiding by archaic virtues? Sorry, I just can't do that. What era are we in now? Mr. Hallow, are you an old pedant?" Charlotte said it all in one breath, watching Atlas Hallow's expression for any change. Fortunately, he remained calm and composed.
"Sharp-tongued. You know what I mean. Charlotte, you married me but you haven't given me your heart." Atlas Hallow's palm was placed over her heart, feeling the soft fullness, the warmth of his hand seeping through her shirt, soothing her skin.
What he wanted was her wholehearted submission, not a puppet-like Mrs. Hallow.
