Miranda’s easy stride stuttered for one pace. “Steady, Daughter. You’ll draw notice stumbling about like that.” Her father looked at her sidelong as he gracefully guided her around a newspaper boy shouting the day’s news at the top of his little lungs. “Remember, deep down we humans are canny beasts, what with being both the hunter and the prey. A change in pace alerts even the most distracted person.” She gritted her teeth. They were not pinching here. “Why should Martin not come to call, Father? He is my good friend, and yours as well.” “Be that as it may, you two are no longer children at play.” A breeze lifted the gray locks of hair hanging down from the base of his old top hat. “A young man gets to having ideas. Ideas he has no business entertaining.” She stopped short, damn the tide of pedestrians, and her father was compelled to halt as well. “Why do we continue to do this?” Her hand curled into the rough wool of his coat sleeve. “The stealing and scheming, Father?”
