’ The woman shrugged helpless shoulders, looking to her husband. I snatched it up, pointed it blindly at him, and fired. E. ” He said. Do you mind talking to some one else. 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. She could not analyse what was stirring in her: the thought of losing the doll, the dog, and the cat. “Dreadful women, my dear!” said Miss Stanley.
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