There was no rush. The crown has passed from the brow of one monarch to that of another. The stairs creaked as Mark rushed down them. The day before this examination was appointed to take place—the third of the prisoner's detention—an old man, respectably dressed, requested permission to see him. Michelle had charitably taken to sitting with Lucy during Lunch Period, where she assumed a station at the outer edges of the Cafeteria, the crowd diffusing in concentric orbits, the middle tables reserved for only the most prestigious castes. Whatever happened she need never return to that possibility. It was hard to resist. His patient was distinctly of a different order of life. “What, you don’t think that you can afford it? Lucy, with your musical talent, you’ll get a full ride.
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