Oh? Oh?

Miriam – much like the priest that called her mother – only found herself encouraged by the redness that colored Arthur’s face.

Her hand was small underneath his. Cold, and colder still for the rings she wore upon it and the bracelet that captured her wrist. As the doctor spoke, one brow lifted with what might have been doubt.

“Why?”

Because he had a woman waiting for him at home, all the way back in Whitby? Miriam tilted her head as she leaned ever closer. Stepped closer, until she had Arthur’s back to the wall.

“I will not say a word of it, if that is what concerns you.”