The important question is, what will your wear for a wedding dress, Alexia? You look horrible in white.

Lady Maccon cogitated. She would like to encourage this new spirit of social-mindedness. If Felicity needed anything in her life, it was a cause. Then she might stop nitpicking everyone else.

Even Alexia, spinster that she was, was given an allowance large enough to dress her to the height of fashion— although she did tend to stick to trends a little too precisely. The poor thing could not help it. Her choice of clothing simply lacked soul.

Quietly Sophronia added, "And the soot on my dress, sir?" "I didn't see anything." Professor Braithwope smiled down at her, showing a small hint of fang. Sophronia grinned back. "I'm glad we understand each other, sir." The vampire looked out into the night. "This is the right finishing school for you, isn't it, whot?" "Yes sir, I think it might very well be." "A piece of advice, Miss Temminnick?" "Sir?" "It is a great skill to have friends in low places. They, too, have things to teach you." "Now, sir, I thought you didn't see any soot.

[She] lost her patience, a thing she was all too prone to misplacing.

...you have been fraternizing with warewolves overmuch! Military men can be terribly bad for one's verbal concatenation!

Captain Niall, having apparently resigned himself to losing his quarry, was savaging her horsehair petticoat into teeny, tiny shreds. "Really, what did my poor petticoat do to offend?