He turned from her--she was taken aback--what did his turning away signify?
Was he hiding some thing--something evident on his face, in his eyes--something he was afraid of revealing?
Was he repelled and turned instinctively--by her breathe or the smell of her licorice-flavored chewing gum--“was that it, the gum“?
Did he turn to have a look at himself, a flash of vanity, in the large ornate, beveled mirror or was he admiring the imposing mirror for itself, classic Art Nouveau, and not what it might reflect?
Was he turning to look at another; another more interesting than she at that moment, with her awkward chewing gum and uncomfortable questioning--a more fascinating reflection seen floating by in the mirror?
She’ll never really know because the time it took for him to turn away, and for her eyes to absorb the turning away was the merest flicker, but with an automatic reflex her mind grabbed at it in less than that.
It would be impossible for her to really know, without further questioning, anything more than that blink of information, the turning away; all else is projection, speculation or imagination though that will not stop her from projecting, speculating or imagining, trying to decipher the exact meaning of his turning away from her, rather abruptly, she thought.
With his split-second action, probably of no great significance--but we don’t know--a course was set in motion: she will stay awake all night wondering what his turn meant or did not mean and if she will have the composure to seek more information before acting, perhaps recklessly, on speculation.
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