Fortunately for Mable, Lory did not know her brother. There were few situations in which she met young men outside of her cousins, and the vast majority had exchanged money afterward.

She smiled wide and prayed he was not missing her, because that meant playing nice for some kid’s sake and him probably trying to wheedle a discount on some false or otherwise deeply misguided premise of a romance.

The look of relief was immediate when Mable gave her an opening to escape. She was a busy adult, and that meant one thing:

Opium! Opium, opium, opium!

Lory dipped into a curtsy, less discreet than she should be in the way she eyed a man stumbling out of the den up the street.

“It’s been a pleasure, Mable.”

She paused half-bowed, then straightened once more. Probably shouldn’t take off her shoes and run to the den while she was still feigning respectability.

With a small amount of disappointment, Mable followed the woman in her curtsy with much more flair and much less grace.

Her brother would have to meet a pretty woman on his own at his rate.  Mable cringed at the thought.

"The pleasure has been all mine, Miss Lory!  I hope I'll see you again soon, you have been very kind to me.  Have a blessed day."

And with that, the girl turned and flounced back into the markets crowd, half searching for her brother, but mostly day dreaming the perfect wife for him.  Very beautiful, very kind, willing to have lots of babies... maybe a woman with short hair, since her brother kept his own long.

Maybe not Lory then, but that was all right.  There were plenty of other women in Whitby.