The remainder of dinner was surreal and stilted. Her family had hosted a feast in his honor for which they had taken weeks to prepare: with braised capons and lobster sausages and all sorts of delicious spiced stews her mother had made from secret recipes. It was the day I borrowed a pencil; the day we first spoke to one another. “If you were to ask me,” he would say, “I should say Blinders is straight. You’re a far cry from your usual gloomy self these days. "Rowland, your violence is killing me," she returned, in a plaintive tone. "Have the aromatic spirits of ammonia sent to Mr.
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