She had seen her really only at teas, with the Stanley strain in her uppermost. “It’s like Troy!” said a voice of rapture. On that night, I surrendered myself to Jonathan Wild, and became— what I am. Her tone was hoarse with passion. To recreate the era, I deliberately tried to avoid creating a thinly disguised bodice ripper where an “empowered” woman mouthed off to prospective suitors in jerkins and tights, in other words, a typical romance novel. But the five per cent. ‘And you!’ shrieked Melusine.
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