The person coming toward her … was he the boy from lunch? Or could it possibly be Strat from another century? He looked like Strat and he didn't. He wore cargo pants and a navy sweater. Strat in Egypt had worn khaki trousers with frayed hems, red socks inside scratched old boots.

The boy worked his way through a crowd of departing kids, dodging their swinging backpacks. “Here you are!” he said, laughing. “I've been looking and looking for you. I don't know how we got separated. Did you finish the special exhibition without me?”

“Hurry it up, kids,” said the guard. “Take a left out that door, please.”

They took a left out that door and walked like strangers away from the Egyptian Room. So, Time, what are you up to? Annie wanted to know. Flinging me from century to century? Giving me an hour here and a minute there? And who is this? And why isn't his identity clear?

“I'm taking a train home,” she said to the boy. “I'm walking to the station. It's a long way on foot, but a beautiful part of the city.” She framed her next sentence the way Strat would have. “Might I have the pleasure of your company?”

“I love how you said that. Now I feel like an usher at a wedding.” He put out his arm for her to take. They walked down an aisle strewn with sculpture instead of wedding guests. “This has been the weirdest day,” he confided. “I was trying to find you, since I didn't want to lose my new Lockwood on the very day we met, and I guess I dozed off in the Egyptian Room. I dreamed I was on the Nile, sailing upstream with a bunch of British soldiers. We didn't have enough to eat and the tribes were attacking from both banks and what I did have was a camera. On a tripod, isn't that a kick? I lost it in a swamp. There was a crocodile.”

Annie was trembling. She swallowed hard and asked the important thing. “Was there a girl with you? Did she catch up? Did you have company?”

But he was frowning at his watch, lifting his wrist and tapping on the watch face. “It isn't working,” he said, completely distracted by not knowing the time.

I don't know Time very well, either, thought Annie. “Don't worry about the watch,” she told him. “All it is is Time. We're going to have enough.”

He smiled at her. “I love how you said that, too. I love people who are sure of things.” He took the watch off and squinted at it to see what was wrong.

Then they were outdoors, the wide magnificent museum steps stretching down to the street. “Two at a time,” he told her, and in the lamplit night, they vaulted down the wide steps two at a time until they reached the sidewalk below.