A/N: There may be some grammar and spelling mistakes in the following, but I was just trying to have a chapter for you soon.
At 5:30 that evening the girls returned to the "Bridge" to prepare for dinner and the evening edition.
"Hurry, hurry, hurry, girls. The sun doesn't wait for us," Luna Morgan called through the bustling washroom as she hastily pruned her own self. She sloppily tied her thick, raven-black hair into a ponytail with a piece of yellow twine and pinched her cheeks until they were rosy.
As they made their way out to the street through the alley, Luna received the daily updates. Sprite and Karoline Froeb recited them quickly from their heads.
"Out of eighteen sellers there were 2,620 papers sold and $29.68 was our total income," Karo said.
"And Conlon's?" Luna asked.
"Twice that, as expected," was the reply.
"Good.." the darkie nodded.
Dandy O'Reily quickened her step to catch up with the leader. "Hey, Luna?" she asked.
"Yeah, Reily?" Luna replied.
Dandy lowered her head.
Luna put her hands on her hips impatiently. "What is it?"
"Uh.. we were seen today."
The leader stopped in her tracks. "By who?"
"By a man and a younger woman. I guess they noticed the light on."
"Their names?" Luna sighed.
"The man's was Colm, but I didn't catch the girl's."
Luna cursed bitterly. "Damn, we'd best not mention it to Conlon. He'd be at my neck if he found out." She scratched her head thoughtfully.
___
When Anne and Colm returned home, she went strait to her room and went to sleep. The floor to ceiling shutters had been fastened shut and life out of doors had slowed down to a minimum by the time she woke up again. Next to her bed a serving of dinner had been laid out on a tray. She picked at the luke-warm food, but decided against tasting it.
Anne slipped downstairs. Towards the back of the house she could hear the chatter of Ms. Clearwater and the rest of the maids and in the drawing room Mr. Bordeaux sat reading his paper. She coughed lightly through the cloud of sweet cigar smoke. Colm set his newspaper down to look at her. "Good evening," he said.
"Good evening," she replied, "I was wondering if it would be alright if I could take a walk.. You know - clear my thoughts. Do you mind?"
"Sure, go ahead," Colm nodded, "Did you find your dinner?"
"Yes, thank you," Anne smiled weakly.
Mr. Bordeaux stood up from the corner winged back chair. He sat his cigar down on the ashtray. "I suppose you'll be needing the carriage."
"No, no, please sit. That won't be necessary. I won't be going far."
Colm shrugged and went over to help her with her coat.
___
Anne looked down the street nervously to make sure that Mr. Bordeaux was not watching. She meekly waved down one of the taxis passing in the street.
A sleek black carriage with two reddish thoroughbreds pulled up along side her and she climbed in. "Where to, Miss?" the young gentleman in the driver's seat asked.
"The Brooklyn Bridge, please," Anne said.
He tipped his brown, felt cabby hat and smiled brightly.
When the carriage came to a stop, Anne climbed out of the open compartment door. The driver held out his hand and helped her down.
"Thank ya kindly, Ma'am," he smiled as she handed him payment.
You would of thought that Anne was stuck up and arrogant had you seen the way she stared like there was no tomorrow at the wonder of brick and steel. Her eyes focused then on nothing besides the sky itself. A breeze of heaven slowly guided her to the center of the bridge. Anne took off the heavy woolen coat to relish in the cool autumn breeze and the bright stars above. She stood there for a moment, simply doing what she had come to do - think.
The young woman finally came to a decision. Her eyes darted to each side to make sure that no other strollers on the elevated walkway were near enough. Sensing that the coast was clear, she quickly disheveled her clothes by pulling the sleeves of her white dress slightly off the shoulders and shifting the waist of her skirt so that it revealed her ankles [an unseemly gesture to do of the late 1800's]. She loosened the barrette that held up her brown silky hair so that small tendrils fell around her face and along her neck.
Down near the Brooklyn border, stood two Brooklyn lookouts by the second gothic arch. They each sat on opposite railings of the walkway, hidden in the shadows. With a strike of a match there was no longer a shadow; Anne took the man's arm tightly and pulled him out of the hiding place.
Once the momental shock wore off a scowl formed on the Brooklynite's face and he advanced upon her. "What do you want?" he growled, his voice dripping with a thick Irish accent.
"Take me to Spot Conlon," Anne commanded, her own voice laced with a brogue that she had no idea existed.