By Christianna Brand
A tender widow proves that modesty might be misleading while she turns into the toast of London.
The Marchesa is going to the theater observed in simple terms through her maid. She clothes in natural white, with none jewels or powder to compete along with her golden hair and blue eyes. within the London society of King George III, this modesty is sufficient to reason a sensation. evening after evening, each bachelor in London sends her flora, hoping to win an viewers with this mysterious, enigmatic attractiveness, yet none have come as regards to a seat in her field. None of them wager that the Marchesa wears no jewels simply because she can't have enough money them. None of them understand that she isn't a Marchesa in any respect. She is Marigold Brown, a bad lady from Gloucestershire who's approximately to mount the best con London has ever seen—if falling in love doesn’t get in her method.
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Example text
Bonny halted in front of his wife with his boots just short of the water, and for a moment he seemed about to hit her. Then he hesitated, and his gaze fell away from hers, and he scowled across at Shandy. He fumbled a clasp knife out of his pocket—Shandy stepped back, snatching at his own—but when Bonny had unfolded his blade he pressed the point into the tip of his own left forefinger and flicked the blade outward, throwing a couple of drops of blood toward Shandy, and at the same time he began chanting a nonsensical multi-language rhyme.
Beth and I will be jumping ship at the first opportunity. htm (41 of 185) [2/14/2004 1:05:00 AM] ON STRANGER TIDES - Tim Powers would slip—that's soaked into her wood. I've got an uncle who needs hanging. He turned back toward the fires and started walking again, and it occurred to him that he wasn't far from the spot where he'd seen the man with the torn pockets and the bound-up jaw; and the memory of it made him walk a little faster, not because the man had looked threatening, but because of what Davies had said when Shandy told him about it.
Someone was yelling. "Cap'n Davies! " Davies dropped his bottle into the sand. "That's Venner," he said thoughtfully. "How did that move go? " Shandy shut his eyes and pictured it. "Right. " As the two men trudged back toward the fires, Davies pulled a pistol out of his belt. "If Venner plays me square I can handle him," he said quietly. "But if he doesn't, I want you to hang back with this and make sure no—" He stopped talking suddenly and gave a weary laugh. "Never mind. " He put the pistol away and lengthened his stride.