"We are," she says, agreeing with a laugh that comes more easily now. "And the boys are very handsome." She's grateful for his understanding, for the calming trace of his hand along her back, even the sweet kiss to her temple--though this last makes her blush, just a little. Nobody from home would expect this from either of them, a thought that's freeing and dizzying all at once.

With a mean sort of rebelliousness, Rosie wishes her mother could have some way of knowing where she was: out living a life, just for this evening, that was far more exciting than anything she'd have found in Oxford.

The drink Neil bought her was much easier to drink than she'd expected; something she realizes when she goes to take another sip and finds little more than ice remaining in her glass. "Let's go, then?"