It was eleven o'clock. She looked at it with a little shudder, but she made no motion to take it. ’ The lashes fluttered demurely. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. 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. And I don't want anything of yours destroyed, Hoddy.
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