He munched his popcorn steadily, periodically offering it to her, but not his Coke, as that would be too bold, a saliva exchange. He—wanted to marry me. “Would you wait for me?” Manning was silent for a space. The solemn strokes were immediately answered by a multitude of chimes, sounding across the Thames, amongst which the deep note of Saint Paul's was plainly distinguishable. “I heard the clock strike as I crossed the square,” she answered. When he was done she kissed his cheek tenderly. “I’ve been thinking of you all night,” she answered. Ramage,” she said, “I can’t—Not now.
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