‘Flirting, Gerald? A new come-out for you. ” He declared. 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. His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would have marked him the world over as a man of the Word. "An oath weighs little with me, compared with your safety. Jove, he didn’t take to it kindly, I can tell you. Marthe has told me that the house comes to my mother, Ma—ry Re—men—ham. It was she who felt guilty as he showed her their bedroom, smelling her perfume, ingesting their psychic leftovers.
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