Wood had been my father, as well as yours. A crumpled-up newspaper thrown from the gallery hit her upon the cheek. ‘Something in that, missie. Over these hung levels, bevels, squares, and other instruments of measurement. The old-fashioned dress, with its series of ruffles and printed flowers, ballooned treacherously, revealing her well-turned leg in silk stockings, as it snapped against her body as a mould. Even the light was different in Athens, soft and golden, sweet as the morning dew blessed by Athena herself. Then came the javelin-men, walking four abreast, and lastly, a long line of constables, marching in the same order. Now you haven’t the ghost of one—not if you play the game fair.
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