Things in Jars

by Jess Kidd

He hated the bowing and whispering, the constant interruption of customers, with their hopes and distresses and bodily functions. Prudhoe wanted to expand the fabric of science, medicine, and his own mind.

maid. Her nostrils flared permanently with some perceived slight, her blue eyes were prone to flashing, rolling, gleaming, and glittering (like all individuals with a splenetic temper).

The metropolis isn’t sleeping, not really. For every Londoner in bed there are ten awake and up to no good—on the fly, on the loose, on the tiles!

He could adore a woman who would treat him with such unbridled scorn. Lufkin’s heart begins to soar with the growing realization that Bridie could well be the Anne Boleyn he’s been hoping for. He selects a halved pomegranate from a golden platter on the table and takes a bite with as much virility as he can muster, chewing pips and

gazing at Bridie with passionate intent. He considers growling, but instead he asks, “Have you plans for dinner tonight, Mrs. Devine?”