30
Returning to Oxford
Half an hour later, Mrs. O’Hannigan’s dispassionate figure was the last thing Emilee saw before the door slammed close behind her. She felt sick. Perhaps she shouldn’t have finished the substantial bowl of soup and soda bread her host had put in front of her. But she had been so hungry. It didn’t help that she had to gulp it down under the watchful eyes of Dublin, the wolfhound, and Mrs. O’Hannigan.
She wondered whether the taxi had ever left when she noticed the cab waiting on her, its engine running. This time the driver got out and held the door. He attempted a grin and tipped his cap. “Ma’am.” It was the same man.
Emilee nodded before ambling inside. The driver had just turned the vehicle when she tapped on the glass partition between them.
“I’m awfully sorr
