Her enthusiasm dimmed slightly when she saw the queue of people stretching down out of the front door and right to where she stood, half a block away. The young man at the end of the queue doffed his hat when she tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me, is this the queue for World’s Fair paperwork?” He nodded. “Yes, miss.” She peered past him. “It’s a very long queue.” “Yes, miss.” Astrid settled in behind him to wait. He didn’t seem interested in talking further, and she didn’t press the conversation. When at last she reached the front, the older gentleman sitting behind the desk extended a sheaf of papers and gestured to the pad of names in front of him. “Sign your name.” “I have some questions.” He looked up, surprised, and scratched the healthy growth of white whiskers on his cheek.
