Is it truly so unfathomable, that an imperfect girl might be perfectly loved?

After spending all of her girlhood fervently wishing she could run away from home— she’d actually done it.

We have to get out of here, Bram. Before they take our bollocks and use them for pincushions.

For the love of ammonites, man! That's just stupid. Why on earth would the Society need to protect unmarried women from bone-dry lectures regarding soil composition? Do your members find themselves whipped into some sort of dusty frenzy, from which no delicate lass would be safe?" Mr. Barrington tugged on his coat. "Sometimes the debate does get heated." Colin turned to her. "Min, Can I just hit him?" "I think that's a bad idea." "run him through with something sharp?

Mr. Sand, do you think it's possible to fall in love in the space of a single day?" He smiled. "I wouldn't know. I only fall in love at night. Never lasts beyond breakfast, though.

Certainty becomes you.

She stared at him, horrified. And thrilled. And horrified at being thrilled.