Chapter Twenty-One
Terminus, 12 March 1871
When Davidson alighted from the carriage at Mrs. M’s tea room, he looked around as he paused to let his leg adjust to bearing weight again. No mechanical birds flew in the sky, and no one in the crowds on the sidewalks stood out as potentially threatening. Most wore their dark winter attire, but here and there a glimpse of color came through, mostly ladies taking advantage of their first chance to show off their spring frocks, although cloaks concealed most of the dresses themselves.
Henry wondered for the thousandth time what that sort of seasonal shift would be like in the domestic arena. He imagined reading the paper by the fire on a brisk spring morning and having a conversation with a beautiful dark-haired creature aglow with the echo of t
