as one speaker after another surrendered the slender threads of some anecdote or fancy to catch at the more compelling cadences of hers. Her boldness was contagious. Women came to her, and grew giddy. She was like a singer, shivering glasses. She was like a cancer, she was like a mould. She was like the hero of one of her own gross romances – you might set her in a chamber with a governess and a nun, and in an hour they would have torn out their own hair, to fashion a whip.
