The building was exactly as he had described and exactly as she had imagined from the sketch — Victorian, good bones, the upper floors wrong in a way that was immediately visible once you knew to look for it.

They stood on the opposite pavement and looked at it.

"See it?" he said.

"Yes," she said. "The windows are too small for the floor height."

"And the—"

"The proportions of the facade don't carry through," she said. "It's like someone stopped caring halfway up."

He looked at her. "Exactly," he said.

She looked at the building. At the bottom half that was confident and precise and the top half that...