Finn broke into her thoughts when he said, “I’m sorry about Blackie, the way he pestered you with questions. He was being very nosey, Moira, the other day.”

“I know that, and I did feel a bit persecuted—” She broke off, laughed. “That’s perhaps too strong a word to use, I suppose. But he did irritate me.”

“He meant no harm.”

“Perhaps not, but it was rather bad mannered.”

Finn turned slightly in the seat, staring at her, and blurted out, “But ye are different to us, Moira. Yer posh, the way ye speak, and how ye look—” He broke off wondering if he’d said the wrong thing when he noticed an odd expression on her face.

“Not so different,” she said quietly. “I’m a human being just like you. We have the same emotions and feelings. Why, we are just like the Romans were, except we wear different clothes, live differently, because our civilization has changed over the years … hundreds of years.”

He was silent, gaping at her.

Moira said, “I did grow up in a great home.…” She paused, could have bitten her tongue off. Improvising with the lie she had told before, she added, “I was a lady’s maid.”

He nodded. “Well, then, that’s what Blackie spotted.” He sat back, his mind racing, his curiosity about Moira Aherne aflame.

Once they arrived at the Blue Door restaurant, Moira was tempted to prevent Finn from taking out the letter for Gladys. They didn’t need it. But she stopped herself, thinking of Patrick Kennedy. Finn was bound to tell him what she had done, and she knew this would most likely embarrass Kennedy. Better to refrain from interfering, she told herself. He is a fine man, and I wouldn’t want him to feel belittled or foolish. Anyway, I might need him … for something or other, one day.

Finn pushed the door open, and she entered the restaurant first, glancing around. Finn stepped up to her, and took out the letter, held it tightly in his hand, seeking Gladys eagerly.

A moment later, the waitress spotted Moira and came hurrying over, her face full of smiles.

“Welcome back!” she exclaimed. “I have just the right table for you.”

Finn said, “This is for ye, from Mr. Kennedy.” He handed her the letter. She took it from him.

Gladys smiled at him. “Hello, Finn. Welcome to you as well. Come along, there’s a lovely table right here, the one Mr. Kennedy likes, it just so happens.”

They both sat down, and Moira said, “Thank you, Gladys. And perhaps you should read Mr. Kennedy’s letter.”

“Oh yes, I will. In a minute. Can I get you something to drink, my lady? Tea? Lemonade?”

“Tea for me, please,” Moira murmured, smiling at her.

“I’ll have the same, please,” Finn said.

“Right away, and I’ll bring the menus.”