“Look here, Ann Veronica,” he began. There were more of us back then, and we weren’t seen as ghouls, in fact, in Greece and the time before we were worshipped as gods. “Okay, I guess. He lost control of the machine, was upset and nearly killed. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. And at last Ann Veronica and Miss Miniver came down the dark staircase and out into the foggy spaces of the London squares, and crossed Russell Square, Woburn Square, Gordon Square, making an oblique route to Ann Veronica’s lodging.
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