Charlotte laughed, pulling him toward the carriage. "Only five thousand, George? You’re getting soft in your old age."
Shaw regained his posture, his eyes sparking with their usual mischievous fire. "I feel," he declared, "that I have just committed a very popular mistake. However, as mistakes go, I find the company to be of a much higher caliber than I deserve. Now, shall we go home? I have a preface to write, and I suspect marriage will provide me with at least five thousand words on why it is a disaster for everyone else."
As they stepped back out onto the street, the London fog swirling around them, Charlotte took his arm.
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