The sound of Lilith’s voice startles him. He turns to find her standing behind him. She is dressed in a simple dark green dress with slender shoulder straps, a low waist, and a hemline that stops well above her slim ankles. It is made of chiffon over a silk underdress, so that it shimmers and floats as she moves. Two delicately stitched dragonflies are embroidered onto the neckline. She wears short pale-mint gloves, and a particularly fetching cloche hat of a brighter green, with her shiny, blunt-cut hair just visible underneath it. She could be any smartly dressed, fashionable young woman, but she is not.

She is Lilith. My Lilith.

“You look wonderful,” he tells her. “Completely wonderful. But a little sad. It must be difficult for you, coming back here.”

“It is. Although it reminds me how lucky I am to be alive. Others in the house were not so fortunate.”

“It is difficult to believe anyone could have emerged from such wreckage.”

“I was deep underground.”

“In the special chamber, is that what you called it?”

“The Great Chamber.” Lilith steps close to him and slips her hand through his arm. “Come along,” she says, “it wouldn’t do for us to be late.”

She leads him back to the motor cab she has waiting and they leave the wreckage of the square behind them. It is a glorious day, the sky bridesmaid’s blue, the parks in bloom and the trees in full leaf. Along their route this prettiness is interrupted now and again by gaps where a house has been obliterated, the space in the street jarring like the shocking glimpse of a missing tooth. As they travel through Holborn, Lilith points to an unremarkable church.

“St. Mary’s,” she tells him.

“The convent where you helped out?”

“Yes. The nuns are marvelous. I admire them enormously, Bram.” She squeezes his hand so that he studies her face for the meaning behind her words. “If I were ever in need of a safe place, the convent is where I should go. I would trust them with the most precious of things. Always,” she says. “You will remember that, won’t you?”

He nods, smiling. Uncertain why she is telling him this, but recognizing that it is important to her. “I’ll remember,” he says.

They journey on down to the Thames and along the embankment for a mile or so before turning along a row of graceful Victorian town houses in Chelsea. The cab driver pulls up outside a tall, redbrick building, and a footman hurries out of the house to open the cab door for Lilith. Bram joins her on the pavement and feels a nervousness take hold of him.

“It will be all right,” Lilith assures him. “They won’t bite.”

“Is reading minds another of your hidden talents, then?”

Lilith smiles. “I rather think it was your face I read.”

“I had hoped I appeared calm and confident.”