No one was allowed to pass along Newgate Street, which was barricaded and protected by a strong constabulary force. She found herself trying on the baubles he brought home, placing the silver rings upon her slim fingers, knowing that he would take up her hand and kiss it. All the rest of his existence was subordinate to this pursuit; he lived for it, worked for it, kept himself in training for it. “How would you know?” Michelle’s interest was piqued. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. Yet I think that he will do it.
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