It appeared that Mr. Prewett was wise enough not to argue. Not that she would have won an argument, but rather it spoke that his priorities in this matter aligned with her. With his job and the fact that he knew Mr. Thompsett perhaps this ought not to have surprised her, yet it did. So few seemed to have the same seriousness that she did.

Gratefully, Malou accepted his help as she stood up again, wincing in pain. But she remained on her feet, which was a blessing. She followed his look to the door - or rather archway before them, her eyes again widening with shock at the destruction.

At Mr. Prewett's words she turned, the truth was on his face. He didn't think they would find what they were looking for there. Well there was only one way to find out. Malou gritted her teeth and tried to step forward and wobbled. Embarassed she managed to squeak, "Might I have your arm?" It was perfectly respectable, she had had her share of men escort her on their arms (not droves, but the few sympathetic ones who had been pushed by their mothers to do so), and truthfully she was not sure if she could actually walk even the distance to the door. There was a greater cause, yes, but there was also great stupidity in hurting herself further.