Sense and Sensibility, chapters 26-30

We're now twenty-five chapters into this fifty-chapter novel; so how much actual romance has the supposed über-romantic novelist given us? Halfway through her freshman effort, you'd expect to be suffocated by endless scenes of heaving bosoms, passionate embraces, and manly hands gripping Empire waists. Where is it all, then…? Where are the smoldering stares, the writhing limbs, the pull of erotic longing across spectacularly manicured lawns (with at least one gamboling lamb for color)?

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