The streetcar ran through backyards on its way to the High Level Bridge, as they rode home from the Muse after the matinee. Bella and Clover liked to stand along this stretch, ready for the dizzying view off the top of the bridge.Aurora sat with hands clasped in her lap. Overgrown rhubarb reached up rusty fluted leaves to the car window; small leaves shifting on the city’s spindly trees were tinged with yellow. Everything was aging, turning back to winter. It made Aurora want to leap up and run south.But you don’t run from the lap of luxury. Fitz had moved them out of the King Edward Hotel (last June, when things began to run tight at the Muse), but the Arlington Apartments were luxury too, the newest and best in the city. The very desirable top floor, riverside corner, for their own suite; a separate apartment for Mama and the girls, two floors down, so they were not living in each other’s pockets. Bella took great delight in the Murphy bed in their suite’s parlour, swivel-flipping out of its shining mahogany pocket like Long Chak Sam’s conjurer’s boxes; her pleasure made Aurora happy.
