“My-“ She stops herself from whispering the word darling to him, just in time. A footman has come to tell them that Branson will be up in just a moment, and Sybil wishes they’d been allowed more than a few brief seconds in which to stare at one another in a dim hall. They are unable to touch or speak and she is aching to do both. “You should go,” she says softly, when the footman departs. Sybil wants to do more, to apologise for her family and for everything that has transpired so far, but can do none of it. “I will see you at the hospital in the morning?”