At this point, Abigail is somewhat used to being recognised. Witches of both Circles can pick her out now, which is far more than anyone in high society knowing who she is ever was. So, she smiles a little.

"Please," she says, offering her hand. "It's Abigail. I'm afraid I don't know your name." She gives a sheepish smile. "I'm really sorry if I'm just not remembering."