Twilight had fallen by the time Elizabeth returned to the meticulously maintained courtyard. The stone torch basins had been lit, their orange-red halos flickering across the cobblestone ground.
The hem of her moon-white skirt was stained with some of the dust and grime from the Lower District, and there were spots of mud on her shoes.
She paused briefly before her own stone house, her gaze drawn involuntarily to the closed oak door next to it.
After a moment's hesitation, she took a soft breath, walked to the door, raised her hand, and knocked three times on the thick wooden panel.
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!
The sound wasn't loud, but it was clearly audible in the silent courtyard.
A moment later, the door was pulled open from within.
Murphy stood in the doorway, his expression calm, as if he had just finished his Cultivation or reading.
He looked at Elizabeth outside the door, his gaze sweeping over her dust-stained skirt without a hint of surprise.
