"You play?" asked McClintock, who was sorting the rolls. I don’t want to Bowdlerize Shakespeare. Not about girls that I date. " "What villain?" cried Hogarth. Only it was with a further and most unbelieving shrug of the shoulders that he resumed his seat. She struggled not to be afraid. By now the horses would be rested and he might go as swiftly back again. To recreate the era, I deliberately tried to avoid creating a thinly disguised bodice ripper where an “empowered” woman mouthed off to prospective suitors in jerkins and tights, in other words, a typical romance novel.
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