between us, I was delighted that she had found something no one ever had before I walked around it, looking and looking, getting my fill, for I was unlikely to see it again Then I looked around the workshop, which I had once spent so much time in and now hadn’t seen in a few years It hadn’t changed There was still little furniture, a great deal of dust, and crates overflowing with fossils that awaited attention On top of one such pile there was a sheaf of papers in Mary’s hand I glanced at the top sheet, then picked up the bundle and leafed through it It was a copy of an article Reverend Conybeare had written for the Geological Society about Mary’s beasts There were twenty-nine pages of text, as well as eight pages of illustrations, all of which Mary had painstakingly copied out She must have spent weeks doing this, night after night I myself had not seen the article, and found myself drawn in to reading parts of it and wishing I could borrow the copy from her I could not stand in the workshop all day reading it, however I flipped to the end to read the conclusion, and there discovered a note in small writing at the bottom of the last page It read: “When I write a paper there shall not be but one preface.” It appeared Mary felt confident enough to criticise Reverend Conybeare’s wordiness Moreover, she had plans to write her own scientific paper Her boldness made me smile Then Tray yipped, and the door opened, and Joseph Anning stood in the entrance It could have been worse It could have been Molly Anning, whose initial suspicion of me would have been revived Of course it could have been Mary, and I would never have been able to justify such an intrusion to her It was still terrible, however People do not enter others’ homes unless they are thieves Not even a harmless spinster can do such a thing “Joseph, I—I—I am so sorry,” I stammered “I wanted to see what Mary found I knew I could not come when she was here—it would be too awkward for us both But I should never have let myself in It is unforgivable, and I am sorry.” I would have rushed out, but he was blocking the doorway, the light behind him throwing his face in shadow so that I could not see his expression—if he had one Joseph Anning was not known for showing emotion He stood very still for a time When he finally stepped forward he was not frowning or scowling, as one might have expected Nor was he smiling However, he was polite “I’ve come back for another shawl for Mam ‘Tis cold at Chapel.” How strange that Joseph should feel he owed me an explanation for being there “What do you think of it, then, Miss Philpot?” he added, nodding at the plesiosaurus