Victoria Monroe came out of Roman's office at nine-fourteen in the morning and walked to her desk with her face composed and her spine straight and her hands doing the specific careful thing of hands that have been told to go somewhere and would like, very much, to have somewhere to go. She sat. She began typing. She did not look at Seraphina.
Seraphina did not look at her either. She was reading the overnight correspondence and flagging two items for Roman's attention and updating his schedule for the week, which was what she did every morning, and this morning was not different from any other morning in that regard.
Mrs. Lawson passed at nine-forty-five without slowing. "Whatever you put in that chain," she said, at the volume of one pair of ears only, "was exactly right." She kept walking and Seraphina kept working.
