Sure she couldn't--he wasn't wrong, and that was part of what stung so badly. Of course she couldn't. If it wasn't in these red walls or the memories of a child, she could picture very little indeed. Nobody knew better than Aurelie Steerpike how very small her world was and how much was missing from it. She could no more picture what he described than she could picture herself becoming Queen of Anaxas or battling a hatcher. And she never would be able to, would she? That was the point, wasn't it?
"If there is no need," she said tightly, "then I am not sorry. I-I'm glad I said it, if no apology is needed." Aurelie drew herself up to her full height, as meager as that was. Something brought her chin up in a mirror of her sister, her mother, her aunts and grandmother. Generations of sharp-edged Steerpike women, who she had not seen in years and would never likely see again, but was like them all the same.
"I don't know, sir, what it is you think we--I--do not have, and I surely don't care. Everything I can think of that I might be missing, really missing, was taken from me. A home, a family, freedom, a life--I had all of those." The wind passed through again but this time she didn't shiver. Aurelie knew she should stop, part of her watching horrified at every word that fell out of her mouth, but she didn't know how. It was an art she never had to practice, so instead she forged ahead. "Y-you say this like it's--like everything is fine, for scraps, where you're from... But I can't help but wonder, if we are less, then what is it that is that is taken from them there? B-because I don't--you can't--" Hot, angry tears pressed at the back of her eyes, but she blinked them away. Crying never made her feel any better, so she wouldn't do it.
"B-because I've never known anyone to describe something as 'less' and treat it the same."
Aurelie's speech came to a stuttering halt, her brain finally catching up with her tongue. She had the presence of mind to look horrified, to be horrified, but she was angry still. How dare he! How dare he be nice to her and then, and then--
"Thank you, again, for the clippings. I am... truly grateful. But I have to--I have to return to my work. I'm sorry to keep you." And then she whirled sharply on her heels and left, before she could do any more damage. She wouldn't wait for a reply--nothing he said could make any difference. Perhaps next time she would think better of it, and if she saw him again, she would apologize. For now, she couldn't bring herself to.