Ernest smiled widely as soon as she opened the door, strangely feeling a little flutter of excitement just at seeing her there. It was as if she was more beautiful than his memory had told him, if that were even possible
"Hi," he said back to her, stepping inside and just letting her ramble on for a bit, she'd get it out her system while he smiled at her and nodded, and then laughed a little.
"I'm good, I'm great, how are you?" he asked her, once she seemed to calm down a bit. "Oh, some people might consider bringing wine or flowers or something, but I brought you some literature," he admitted, with a bit of a laugh, presenting thethreebooks to her. "In answer to the question in your last letter," he explained. "The full list is inside the Dostoevsky," he added. "You might already know them, I'm afraid I can only speak for things that might be extremely dull and old-fashioned to you," he told her.