"Fifteen years..." Arthur gently repeated the number, his fingers unconsciously stroking the rim of the teacup. Though Hutter's words were simple, they tugged at certain emotions deep within him like an invisible thread.
Calculating the time, how many years had it been since he came to this world?
Arthur forced himself not to dwell on those matters and instead asked, "Have you gone back to England these years? London changes year by year; the train has reached Paddington, the New London Bridge is open, and theaters in the West District keep popping up. As for the East District... it remains much the same, except that illegal buildings are increasingly being constructed."
Hutter shook his head, "I haven't gone back. Although the Moscow Company reimburses the rent for employed staff, our salaries aren't much. Coupled with daily expenses here, if I were to go back to London every year, it would probably mean working for a year or two for nothing."
"Not even once?"
