Lilith stands and begins to button her coat. “I am sorry to break up the party,” she says with somewhat forced cheerfulness, “but I really think Charlotte and I should be going.” She glances around the room which is now filling with more boisterous drinkers.

Bram leaps to his feet, his chair scraping the floorboards as he does so.

“Of course,” he says. “We shall find you a cab.”

Charlotte and Perry both protest, but follow nonetheless as Lilith takes Bram’s arm once more. Outside the weather has worsened, so that the icy blast that blows down Cleveland Street seems to carry in it splinters of ice. They cast about for a hansom or a motor cab, but all that pass are already occupied. Perry and Charlotte, fueled by the coarse brandy, wave and whistle madly in the hope of summoning some sort of transport. Bram stands at the curb with Lilith. Neither of them speaks, and there is a palpable tension between them now. The bleak, gray light of the winter afternoon perfectly matches Bram’s mood, for he can see no possible way of improving his standing in Lilith’s eyes. She is the daughter of a duke, fabulously wealthy, and beautiful, and could have the pick of all the eligible men in the country. He is the son of a modestly successful steel magnate, with less than a shilling of his own, and a chosen career that might see them both starve.

“Hey!” yells Perry. “We’ve found one!” He signals wildly to indicate the carriage pulling to a halt a little farther up the street.

“Come along, Lily!” Charlotte calls as she runs after it.

Lilith turns to Bram to say good-bye and, to the astonishment of both of them, he swiftly takes her in his arms, pulls her to him, and kisses her hard, full on the lips. She pulls away, but he holds her tight, so that her face remains only inches from his own. As the wind buffets them and tugs at their clothes, and passersby exclaim or laugh, and Charlotte squeals in amazement, and a motorist blasts his horn, and a nag whinnies, and the shouts of a chestnut seller sing out above it all, Bram falls deep into Lilith’s fathomless gaze and hears himself murmur her name, over and over, like a prayer. A prayer that she will not disappear out of his life. A prayer that she will return his passion. A prayer that she knows. That she understands. That she, too, wants what he wants.

“Don’t go,” he says at last.

“I must,” she whispers, her own voice unsteady. “I must.”