She Glared At Him. "i'm Not Asking

Just Be Quiet And Accept The Praise.

I Thought You Wanted Food," She Gasped. "i Do," He Murmured, Tugging On The Bodice Of Her Dress. "but I Want You More.

She Could Not Bear The Thought. She Simply Could Not Bear The Thought That She Might Somehow Prove To Her Grandfather That Her Mother Had Indeed Been A Fool And Her Father Had Been A Damned Fool And That She Was The Damnedest Fool Of Them All.

To Call That Writing, Madam, Is An Insult To Quills And Ink Across The World.

My Mother Is Convinced That Yellow Is A Happy Color And That A Happy Girl Would Get A Husband. -penelope Featherington