"What?" someone asked.
"Humanity," Catherine replied. "I forgot that behind every person there is a story, a heart, a life that I do not know."
The professor nodded slowly. "It is a harsh lesson, Miss Radcliffe."
Catherine turned toward the door through which Philip had left. "I must speak to him. I must truly apologize."
"He reminded you that real apologies are made when nobody is watching," Arthur noted.
"Then that is exactly what I will do," Catherine said with determination. "No cameras, no audience. Just him and me." She took off her high-heeled shoes. "The party is over. Everyone can go home."
The guests looked at her in surprise.
"But Catherine—" someone began.
"I said it's over." Her voice was firm. "Now I have a lot to think about, and so do you."
She took a scarf from a sofa and wrapped it around her shoulders. Without saying another word, she headed for the door.
"Where are you going?" Arthur asked.
Catherine stopped on the threshold. "To look for a delivery man who has more class than all of us put together." And she stepped out into the London night.
The streets of London were almost empty at that hour of the evening. The streetlights reflected on the dark, wet pavements. Catherine walked quickly, barefoot, carrying her shoes in her hand. The scarf trailed behind her shoulders. She didn't know where to go. She didn't know where to look, but she had to find him.
She passed a small cafe that was still open. The owner was putting away the chairs.
"Excuse me," Catherine called out. "Have you seen a man in a light blue shirt and a dark apron?"
The man looked at her strangely. "Are you all right, miss?"