"Or what?," she asked, smiling. "You'll scold me to death?" There wasn't animosity in her voice. Rhys was like a well-groomed fungus, he was growing on her. "I figure I should say sorry to the guy who saved my life. You know, English manners, and all that."

Holly eyed the figure across the street. Despite his awkward way of walking, he didn't look much different than the hundreds of others that littered the city.

"Do you think they sell Jaffa cakes in America? Probably not, right?"