"Sold on?" Will said, scratching his head. "I guess Harry's been here... five years? That or there 'bouts." It must have been about then, not long after Harry had inherited his own share of Hackney, and the Thames had frozen over two or three times since then.
"Will, Miss. Shout for me if you need me, I'll be at the front." Where he always bloody well was, "But I doubt you'll need me." He knocked again, wondering what on earth was going on in there, but saying nothing allowed, "After all, the Theatre's not changed much. Probably not even had a fresh lick of paint."