He was a man. Men always had lewd thoughts. It was perfectly natural and normal

Out of the darkness came Mr Carsington's deep voice, cool and calm. " Pray don't trouble yourselves, gentlemen. It is merely a villain come to cut our throats, rob our stores and ravish our women. No need for alarm. Mrs Pembroke has the matter in hand.

Life is not an opera. Scenes belong on the stage.

They were perfectly suited. They would speak of books the livelong day and night and bore everyone else but themselves to distraction.

Just listen,” she said. “You can’t kill him in cold blood.” “Whyever not?” Ye gods grant me patience. “Because he’ll be dead,” she said as patiently as she could, “and Lady Clara’s reputation will be stained forever. Do not, I pray you, do anything, Lord Longmore. Leave this to us.” “Us.” “My sisters and me.” “What do you propose? Dressing him to death? Tying him up and making him listen to fashion descriptions?

Life had a way of wrecking her careful plans, again and again. Roulette was more predictable than life. Small wonder she was so lucky at it.Life was not a wheel going round and round. It never, ever returned to the same place. It didn't stick to simple red and black and a certain array of numbers. It laughed at logic.Beneath its pretty overdress of man-imposed order, life was anarchy.

That's what brings in the customers: the combination of gossip and the intricate detail about the dresses, all related as drama. It has the same effect on women, I'm told, as looking at naked women has on men.