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 sat, crouched together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that supported the pig’s skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann Veronica’s face, and let herself go. "What would you like most in this world?" he asked. Even after this woman had gone, it seemed to Ruth that the room was kindlier than it had ever been. Each manuscript was like the other: the same lovely treatment of an unlovely subject. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way.
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This video was uploaded to suzume-news.club on 21-09-2024 19:21:43
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