" "How did you escape?" asked Sheppard, who, as he shook off his slumber, began to recall the events of the previous night. “I’m not going to kill you, John. “Mom, this is the girl I asked to Prom, Lucy. Having drunk as much as he thought prudent, and thanked his unknown friend for his attention, Jack again lay down on the straw, and indulged himself with another nap, intending to get up as soon as it was perfectly dark. 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. He knew that tragedy was as blind as justice, that it struck the child and the grown-up impartially. Ann Veronica was one of the few young people—and one must have young people just as one must have flowers—one could ask to a little gathering without the risk of a painful discord. “I heard your voices, and the hall is draughty.
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