"I'm also useful." Clenching her fists, Amy looked at Allen nervously.
"I didn't say that you are useless." Allen gently stroked Amy's head and said, "Everyone is born to be useful."
"Then why is there a useless person?" Amy asked in confusion.
"It's just that I haven't found his use." Allen replied seriously.
Ellen really felt sorry for Amy, who was still at the age of playing by her parents' side, but was being forced by a group of filthy aristocrats to cater to a stranger. This time it was luck, because she had met himself, and if she had met someone else, with Amy's beauty, it's probably a tragedy.
It was a tragedy that couldn't be written into a poem.
Because it was too hasty and too common.
Lying on the balcony lazily, Winnie listened to the two people chatting casually, and her mind was wandering in the sun.
Except for the time just now, the sunshine was the most comfortable.
Allen took a look at Amy. Since he had decided to keep her, he had to figure out her family.