Chapter 25I grew complacent again, dwelling in some dream state that I believed I could control. Of course, my own life should have taught me better. It was in the early spring. London was wet and cold. I was on my way to the theatre, the carriage moving through the muffled streets slowly, weaving around the pedestrian traffic. I was tired, resting my head against the velvet padding. The age of my body had become increasingly difficult for me. The carriage clattered to a halt, waiting for some blockage in the road ahead to clear. Out of the corner of my eye, in the swirling crowd, I spotted him.
It was quick, the momentary glimpse I might have dismissed had it been any other face. It was pale, scant. It reflected years of hunger and internal suffering. If he saw me as well, it didn't show
