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. “Come on. She walked through the office to the door, aimlessly. But, on the bursting of that bubble, his hopes vanished with it. ’ His friend held it out of the way. Ramage,” she said, sharply, “I have to make it plain to you. And Ann Veronica walked beside him, trying in vain to soften her heart to him by the thought of how she had ill-used him, and all the time, as her feet and mind grew weary together, rejoicing more and more that at the cost of this one interminable walk she escaped the prospect of—what was it?—“Ten thousand days, ten thousand nights” in his company. Why don’t you go in? Charvill is there. ’ Her breath tightened and she was obliged to control an inner ferocity. I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him— “I suppose pride and self-assertion are sin? Sinned against heaven—Yes, I have sinned against heaven and before thee. I’m sick of this town and I can’t wait to get out. Ann Veronica forgot him as soon as she was through the gate, and her face resumed its expression of stern preoccupation. Alexander and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.
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