"You haven't the best track record on differentiating the possible from the impossible, you know." Her voice is soft and level. Once, she might have fumed at his certainty, but there's a deep well of calm in her that's hard to stir into anything more than ripples; anger and frustration do come slower to her now than they did before. It's like she's able to take a much longer view. Honestly, nowadays, she hardly even ever mutters under her breath in irritation when someone doesn't have correct change for the bus. (Well, she doesn't mutter curse words, at least.)

Maybe that's why she doesn't feel jarred or upset by...all of this. Oh, it's rubbish, no question of that, but there's not much point in a lot of screaming and shouting and fighting, is there. Yet, at the same time - at the same time, she doesn't want to prompt him by asking what he means when he says as we go. She wants to stay here just a bit longer.

"Perhaps it will be in time," she says, and once again strokes his head with a gentle finger. "London's better, now, than it used to be. Lots of places are better than they used to be. Maybe it'll happen. You have got to keep up hope, you know."