"No, miss. Not at all pleasant. Would you mind terribly if I sat?"

Tamara gestured towards the settee. "Of course, Doctor. I'm sorry, please do."

Dr. Nichols returned to the settee, still perched upon its edge as though afraid he might have to lurch from it at any moment. Tamara sat in a delicate chair just across from him and though she was tempted to snatch up one of the biscuits that had been set out for him with the tea tray, she refrained. Her gaze shifted towards Farris, still and silent as a statue by the door, then back to the despondent wretch who had appeared upon her doorstep.

"Well, Doctor, you certainly have my attention."

The old man nodded. He glanced anxiously about the room several times and when he spoke he could not meet her gaze. "Here in the city it might be different, Miss. Where I come from, we still hold onto more than a little superstition. Legend. Tales we tell the children."