’ With an unexpected flush of pleasure, he recalled the girl’s antics. “Thank goodness!” said that retreating aspect, “that’s said and over. Her clock had stopped—stopped at the very hour on which she had quitted the Mint! She had not the heart to wind it up again. Good night!" She pressed his hand and went out. " The Wastrel tried to reach Ruth's lips. 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.
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