Elizabeth coughed as it struck her throat, but Katarina seemed to notice nothing amiss, only glancing quickly up and down the street before she drew the door shut after her. Elizabeth could not imagine why she bothered to look about. It was not yet sunrise, and between the dim light and the smoky cloud, visibility was uncertain at best. “It’s hard to breathe,” she ventured. Katarina nodded absently. “I thought we’d be in for a bit of fog this morning. It’s always like this before a storm. We’re frankly lucky it’s no worse—in a real London particular, you couldn’t see your hand before your face.” “Fog?” Elizabeth was familiar with fog, a cool friendly gray thing that rolled in off the sea when the weather was right. If this was fog, the phenomenon had changed some in seventy years. “Have you never been to London?” Katarina asked, surprised. “I should think, even in your time—though it’s worse now, of course, but—” She broke off in response to Elizabeth’s headshake. “I don’t come out until next year.” “You’ve never even been to your London?”
