” Anna shook her head. The sky beyond was a surreal color of pink that reminded her of the windows she had once been entranced by at the castle chapel, their leaden lines depicting old religious stories and sufferings. This is also the ragged edge of the world, too. As she raised it, its lower portion fell apart into two baggy crimson masses. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. “You’re our superstar!” Turning to her foster father, she was bear hugged again, squashing the white carnations.
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