As they careened into a parking space, Lucy clung to the upholstery so as not to be thrown against the front seats. The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face. The advanced guard rode on to drive away any opposition, while the main body of the procession crossed the bridge, and slowly toiled up Holborn Hill. In response to an almost imperative gesture from the nurse, Anna laid her hand upon his. It was hard to resist. She was too delicate, too fragile to survive out there. “—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. “Arthur, this is Miss Pellissier—Mr.
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