“Who did you say today’s guest speaker is again?” she asked, glancing at her watch.

“Graham Greene.”

“Oh yes, that’s right. I met him once—he works in Fitzroy as an air raid warden.”

“You don’t say.”

“Yes, that’s why his prose is so rich and detailed, and why he’s so popular with the soldiers.”

When the cab stopped, a doorman in a brown-and-gold suit and top hat opened their door and sheltered them from the rain with an oversized umbrella, escorting them up the stairs into the sleek marble lobby. Theo led the way toward the back of the hotel, passing through the Promenade, a spectacular room transformed into an intimate dining space by decorative columns, gilt filigree and ornate moldings. Guests sat on high-backed upholstered chairs and chintz banquettes, while a professional musician played Schubert on a grand piano. Oversized lamps, floor-to-ceiling mirrors and sweeping velvet curtains added to the magnificence of a room equal to any he’d seen in New York. They passed white linen tables with cake stands five levels high, full of pastries so petite they looked too dainty to eat. All the way down the room, lacquered consoles held gigantic vases of flowers from where waiters balanced trays of silverware.

When they reached the doors to the ballroom, Alice stopped to stare; they were decorated with sculpted pewter flowers, delicate pearl embellishments in the center of the petals unlike anything Theo had ever seen. Then he opened one of the doors, and the ornate mirrored entrance of the ballroom came into view—and, with it, a dazzling blast of sunlight and a torrent of conversation. He held the door wide, smiling discreetly as Alice gaped at the Corinthian columns with their regal marble and gold leaf, and the painted walls. He had to admit to being impressed too; everywhere they looked, plinths held oriental vases overflowing with fresh blooms, and Venetian-style mirrors adorned elegant ivory walls. “Shall we?” he asked Alice.

She gave him a dazed smile and walked in.

He soon found the board that displayed a seating plan in exquisite calligraphy, and he spent a few moments running through the names to see if the people he had hoped would attend were present. He wouldn’t recognize them by sight, but if he knew their tables he could go around making introductions as soon as the speeches were over.

They were the first guests at their table. He pulled out Alice’s chair and she sat down, smoothing her skirt and placing her bag and gas mask over the seat back. He still had trouble remembering to carry one everywhere, but Londoners were all used to it.