The cab came to a stop. Matthew passed up the fare through a small opening in the roof and the doors quickly flipped open. After climbing out, he handed Miss Trewlove down and glanced at the building before them where people were streaming in. “It looks to be a church.”

“A converted one from what I understand. Quite appropriate, don’t you think, as I’m certain it’s filled with sinners.”

He’d wager no truer statement had ever been spoken. After he paid their admittance fee at the door, they climbed the stairs to a balcony and made their way to the benches at the front, which provided a clear view of the stage and the rows of pews lined up before it. A good deal more pandemonium was visible in the front. Young lads, many appearing to be in need of a bath, were jumping around, running hither and yon. Women were jostling bawling babes, no doubt trying to soothe them into silence. Some men were shouting and shoving on each other, while a few were sitting back puffing on their pipes.

She looked over at him and smiled. “So much mayhem. It’s marvelous, isn’t it?”

He thought of dinners, plays on Drury Lane, recitals, and garden parties he’d attended. Much more civilized, much less chaotic. “I think I would tire of it night after night.”

She nodded. “I agree. It should be saved for special occasions. Although for some of these people, I suspect it offers an escape, especially for those who can’t escape into books.”

“Are you always thinking about books?”

Her gaze lit upon his lips. “Not always.” When she looked away, her cheeks were lightly flushed, and he wondered how much more they might darken if he gave in to temptation and kissed her.

But before he did something he shouldn’t, a gentleman in an ill-fitting jacket strode onto the stage and began offering what Matthew was certain he believed to be witty comments about Americans. The crowd laughing uproariously spurred him on. Miss Trewlove, seeming less than entertained, leaned toward him, her mouth near his ear, bringing with her the scent of oranges. He was rather certain her actions were the result of the loud clamoring that made it difficult to hear anything, that she didn’t mean to be provocative, yet provocative she was. How simple it would be to turn his head and capture her mouth.

“Why do people find it humorous to make sport of others?”

“To distract others from making sport of them.”