He closed the door. ‘But I’m hanged if I know why you find it so amusing. He devoured her with his eyes too, his shyness not able to disguise his furtive glances at the curvy outline of her breast against the imitation silk, his memory still exquisitely tortured by her movements in the miniskirt. ‘To what do you go, mademoiselle? The life of a nun in a convent, in a country where nuns are unwelcome. “But have you ever thought that you might be attracting negative attention to yourself by looking like you do? Like I said, don’t take it personally. ‘But do you not see that he will come again? I think it is better if you, both of you, go and leave me here to find—’ She broke off, looking away. "It is with no small concern," writes an anonymous historian of Newgate, "that I am obliged to observe that the women in every ward of this prison are exceedingly worse than the worst of the men not only in respect to their mode of living, but more especially as to their conversation, which, to their great shame, is as profane and wicked as hell itself can possibly be. She had a few acquaintances, English gentlemen, but she lived with her sister—was a lady. The word "criticism" had no concrete meaning to her then; no more than "compromise. In the meanwhile, as he talked, he scrutinized her face, ran his eyes over her careless, gracious poise, wondered hard about her. Then she sang. ‘Why, you have heard yourself all that is being said. The first set of occupations seemed to her to be altogether too domestic and restricted; for the latter she was dreadfully handicapped by her want of experience.
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