“I killed him. " "What kind?" "Dickens, Hugo. “I am so sorry. The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid. And we’re going to fight that old world down there. He is in the care of those who will not leave the task assigned to them—the utter perversion of his principles—half-finished. Never before had any human being kissed her lips. 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.
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