Labourers trickled back to their tasks, sluggish with bread and beer; market-traders had done the best of their day’s business; the homeward rush of workers seemed impossibly far in the future. Mary usually took this opportunity to review her morning’s work. Today, especially, she would have welcomed a quarter-hour to think about her fateful morning – an unlikely chance meeting, the discovery of a long-lost cousin, the sudden revelations surrounding her father’s disappearance. Lang was gone now, she knew not where. They had agreed, vaguely, to meet again, but they each had much – almost too much – upon which to reflect. Just now, however, there would be no pause: the tract widow had suddenly decamped. One moment, the lady was there as usual, seeking to save the world. A minute later, she had lowered her veil, swept her array of reading materials into her dainty basket and started at an uncompromising pace down the street, deeper into the City.Mary blinked and pushed all thoughts of Lang from her mind.
