The Pellissiers had been an old family in Hampshire, while his grandfather had driven a van. 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, very carefully, he raised her in his arms and carried her to her bed. “Maybe someday I can look them up again, just to see how they are doing. As no apprehension was entertained of an escape by this outlet,—nothing of the kind having been attempted by the boldest felon ever incarcerated in Newgate,—both doors were generally left open during the daytime. "Where am I?" she cried, passing her hand across her brow.
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