The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. ‘What you can do, Lucy, rather than make enquiries, is introduce me to this comte and comtesse. “I think that I shall be the most unpopular man in London. We'll then remove them both to the Middle Stone Hold, where a watch shall be kept over them night and day till they're taken to Tyburn. “What nonsense is this? What raving! My dear child, you DO live, you DO exist! You have this home.
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