"An honest policeman. Who'd have imagined?" she said. There was a split-second of hesitation before she took his hands, but her grip was firm and she settled next to him comfortably, without reservation. She wanted contact too, and if she kept fretting about him pulling stitches doing simple things like offering her a hand, he was going to get cross.

"Well, you'll need to put on a shirt, darling, and possibly your boots if you're going downstairs," she pointed out. "I wouldn't walk around barefoot."

"But if giving them fifty or a hundred of the rubles gains us food delivered to the room, I am all for it." Emma rubbed at her eyes wearily. "I simply cannot fathom the dining room this evening."