‘Nothing would do for her but to come here,’ grumbled Hilary, wiping his heated brow with a pocket handkerchief dragged from his immaculate white uniform breeches. Had he come to see her to find if she needed something? No. His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. But heavens, I must pack!” She sprang to her feet and disappeared in the room beyond, from which she emerged a few minutes later with flushed cheeks and dishevelled hair. The threadbare remainders of the dinner discussion hovered over the topics of obsessive fans of the science fiction and horror genres. She found she was trembling at his nearness and full of a thrilling dread that he might touch her. Lucy studied Katy for the rest of the game. Tears began to stream from her cheeks. “This is my way back to my side of the Park,” she said. However this may be, such was the ill report of the place that few passed along the Old Bailey without bestowing a glance of fearful curiosity at its dingy walls, and wondering what was going on inside them; while fewer still, of those who paused at the door, read, without some internal trepidation, the formidable name—inscribed in large letters on its bright brass-plate—of JONATHAN WILD. She had adored the stupid thing, and kept it in her pocket for about ten years.
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