You've betrayed yourself, Thames. He seemed to her indistinguishably about her father’s age. God bless you, Auntie! I'll go into the mills and make pulp with my bare hands, if you want me to. 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.
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