She smiles at him. Privately, she is sure that his staff would happily wake him earlier and cook his breakfast. There is, surely, no need for such a rush – or breakfast in a dismal café. Perhaps he is embarrassed that she has caught him behaving like a sluggard.

They part affectionately on the pavement outside the café, preparing to travel in different directions. Ralph suggests she takes a taxicab, but she declares a desire to walk. The office is not far, and she would like some air after sitting in the cramped, cigarette-and-bacon-scented café. He kisses her cheek, and she is, once again, assailed by a fleeting memory of Ruby.

As Ralph strides away towards Westminster, she lingers and, for reasons that she cannot put into words, turns back towards his home.

This will be her street soon. These fine houses contain her neighbours – as yet unmet. She will take tea with women like herself, discuss matters of importance over dinner, share the usual grumblings about housemaids and cooks. In time, the nanny will wheel her children along these pavements in the perambulator, as they go in search of parks and places to run about.

It will be enjoyable, she tells herself, noticing a woman in a subdued but tidy uniform sweeping one of the doorsteps. There is much to look forward to.

What does the future hold for Ruby Mills? A life of crime, including prostitution – Harriet does not want to imagine it – and undoubtedly there will be time in gaol to come. Perhaps Mary MacKenzie had been right: what might someone like Ruby become, given the right education and work? Wasn’t Ruby Mills exactly the sort of woman that the suffragists had sought to raise up? Could Harriet, once she is married to a Member of Parliament, help her in some way, find her a job that makes the best use of her talents? Save her from a life of criminality? Keep her as her own, dear friend?

She walks on towards Kensington, turning over possibilities and plans in her mind, wondering when and where she will next see Ruby. Envisioning a time and place where they might have opportunity to talk more deeply about Ruby’s future, and her own part in it.

She is nearly at the Kensington Gazette when a man walks past her at speed, bumping her hip and causing her to stumble.

‘Oh, I do apologise, miss,’ he begins, acknowledging his clumsiness. ‘Harriet?’

‘Jimmy?’

Jimmy Cartwright hitches his satchel in front of him, so that the bag does not nudge her again. ‘Sorry about that. I’m late and not looking where I’m going.’

‘Oh dear, it is rather late in the morning to be arriving for work, isn’t it?’

He grins. ‘We can face the wrath of Pickford together.’

‘Safety in numbers.’