How could Henry Ford have such thoughts about her?
She regarded him as an elder, an uncle, and he was so gentle with her; how could he possibly want to forcibly kiss her, or even hit her...
She lowered her face, her eyes filled with confusion. Henry Ford reached out, grasped her chin to lift her head, and with calm eyes, he gazed at Iris Harris's pale, bleeding face.
"Wouldn't it be better if you just behaved?" he raised his hand, gently wiping the blood from the corner of her mouth, in the same tender tone as always, as if the person who had hurt her just now wasn't him at all, "I really don't want to hurt you, Iris."
"Mr. Ford..." Iris Harris shook her head, her voice tinged with tears, "What are you doing! I'm your teacher's daughter!"
