“How far is it?” “Not far,” he said with a quick look in my direction. “You’ll love it.” The street became smaller and with every step, Mr. Hayes seemed to shed the layer of aristocracy that clung to him like a well-tailored cloak. His movements became looser, his long limbs more relaxed. We crossed into a slender lane, lined with what seemed like hundreds of shops. High and narrow houses sat above the little storefronts, the upper stories projecting outward and peppered with windows bracketed by wooden shutters carved in delicate latticework. “Oh,” I breathed. Mr. Hayes smirked. “Told you.”
