Well, I thought to myself: Maker, I'd like to take someone dancing. And then I thought, isn't that dreadfully presumptuous to put on a stranger? Yet somehow worse for a friend - they might acquire entirely the wrong idea. So neither will do, and an enemy's right out, for we've simply too few to make it work. And by then I'd nearly walked into a wall, so I decided that dancing was a lost cause regardless.

[ a breath: ]

But the wall had a poster on it for some sort of show, and I've had no company of the theatre since Miss Fitcher took her leave.

[ in his absence, under circumstances he’s pieced together only through unhappy record ]

Would you like to come?