“Robin, I don’t think I’ll ever have the words to describe what you did for me. I was living a half life until that day you let Louisa’s bonnet loose in Hyde Park. Portia says I was on ice, and she has the right of it. I wasn’t living. I was only . . . there.” “Well,” she said, her eyes wet, “somebody really ought to build a statue of me. I’m amazing.”
