Owen Moreland's party didn't end until half past ten at night.
As was the routine, he insisted on seeing Amelia Clarke home himself.
Just having come down from the party, Owen Moreland appeared radiant, like the midday sun, dazzling to behold.
However, Amelia Clarke wasn't in any mood to appreciate this pinnacle of male beauty; she was so exhausted she could barely keep her eyelids open.
Indeed, overtime pay was not so easily earned.
The car was very silent, Owen Moreland drove quietly, his handsome face deep and enchanting under the fleeting lights.
"Tired?" he asked.
His voice was steady, his tone rich.
A magnetic voice, like the cello.
Amelia Clarke suddenly opened her drooping eyes, unable to hide her fatigue, "I'm okay."
"A hot footbath can relieve fatigue."
He said it simply and clearly.
Amelia Clarke lowered her eyelashes and gave a soft 'hmm' in response.
She could feel his concern for her.