She gathered her black purse, a pointless thing made of cardboard covered in sateen and bejeweled with an assortment of rhinestones. She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. And here he was, but a hundred yards away, this wastrel who trailed his genius through the mud. Too skilled to advertise their presence by a show of arms and men. She wished her father and aunt would not enjoy their dinner with such quiet determination. “Compromise and kindness. Anna thrust hers into her pocket unopened, and for the first time left the house without a smile upon her face. Indeed I am! I would make this country a collective monarchy, and all the girls and women in it should be the Queen. Would to God I had.
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