"My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. " "What!" exclaimed Mrs. ’ ‘You may arrest me later. He was completely, devastatingly handsome. I’m minded to take a whip and beat some sense into you. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. " So saying, he bowed and departed. 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. “You are magnificent,” she said, “but the steel of your truth is a little oversharpened. ‘C’est ridicule. She read on and on, now thrilled by the swiftly moving drama, now enraptured by the tender passages of love. Sebastian howled with laughter, doubling over. You cannot possibly leave me here alone with Gerald.
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