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In short, I’ve acquired a duke, a photographer, and a vicar.
“You’ve had nothing to eat, Miss.” “I can hardly make up for that now, Agnes. One cannot eat cake in the street without good reason.” (Perhaps something to be questioned?)
“Before I go running about trying to hang anyone, I’ve some work that must be readied for tomorrow,”
Life must be lived. And if we can enjoy some of it, so much the better.
A woman of her age, single! Why, she must be thirty years old!
Standing on the Corner, Making Clever Comments to Passersby: My true strength.
Beggar: Will take coin or books.
Mr. Harper looked from me to the men at my side, then back again. “You are fortunate in your friends, Miss Lion.” I believe he meant it literally.
It was a delightful pickle of a moment. And having nothing to do with me whatsoever. How marvellous. How blisteringly marvellous.
“When one commits to be a Watcher, one must have a spine of iron. Blacklists may not be pleasant, but they are necessary. You understand.” I do, having my own List of Enemies.
“You need another chair. Here, by the fireplace.” “Why is that?” Hawkes waited a moment, as if an obvious thing was before me. When I said nothing, he tilted his head ever so slightly. “Islington, Pierce, Hawkes, and Lion.”
It’s not only the faces on the battlefield that tell the story of war.
I suppose we all have our small pleasures.
“You look better than you did when I last saw you.” “I’ve been reading about pirates.”
“He said he wished you to be wise, and good, and true to the beatings of your own heart, and hoped that you could be spared the extremes of society, both the very poor and the very rich, so that neither need nor indulgence would spoil the soul he loved more than anything else in the world.”
You have to not only confront the dismal realities of life but choose, ofttimes, to blatantly ignore them.
I’d momentarily forgotten his chair, but when Hawkes saw it—warm gold, cosy, near the fire —he looked back over his shoulder, a smile lifting the side of his mouth like a sail. “Do you like it?” I asked.
Mother always insisted that the week between Christmas Eve and the New Year was sacrosanct.
“Whose?” “I don’t know. But he sounded like the other half of home.”
“Thank you. I think you will find something here.” “Did you?” “A reminder that living is a thing of wonder.”
