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. "So has the butterfly evil thoughts. . Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. Already Cosette was her chosen friend. Darting quickly to the chest that contained the priest’s vestments, she leapt onto it and reached her arm down to scrabble behind it on the floor. I think you are hard. One gets a lot more fun married. "'Sdeath!" cried Hogarth, aside to the poet. There were two. Then the storm broke.
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