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. ‘But so also it is downstairs. It was as if she had grown right past her father into something older and of infinitely wider outlook, as if he had always been unsuspectedly a flattened figure, and now she had discovered him from the other side. I did not lay any traps for her. “I must take them,” she said, to help herself over her own incredulity. " The stranger said nothing, but hastily brushed away a tear. I want to make my own selection. ” He ducked out. ’ ‘But—’ ‘You’ll get her all over blood again.
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