Anna thrust hers into her pocket unopened, and for the first time left the house without a smile upon her face. \"Lucy?\" He called her as she turned. The next few hours will tell. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. She intercepted the glance the spinsters exchanged, and immediately sensed that she had said too much. With a swirl of her floral chintz petticoats, she placed herself in the capacious window seat, accepted the glass Gerald handed to her, and smiled mischievously up at him. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark.
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