She Had Always Been An Unashamed Reader

I Love Evensong. There's Something Sad And Essentially English About It.

[the Woman] Paused And Seemed To Take A Deep Breath. 'you See,' She Declared. 'i Am Tom Mallow's Aunt.' Catherine's First Instinct Was To Burst Out Laughing. She Wondered Why There Was Something Slightly Absurd About Aunts; Perhaps It Was Because One Thought Of Them As Dear, Comfortable Creatures, Somehow Lacking In Dignity And Prestige.

I Pulled Myself Up And Told Myself To Stop These Ridiculous Thoughts, Wondering Why It Is That We Can Never Stop Trying To Analyse The Motives Of People Who Have No Personal Interest In Us, In The Vain Hope Of Finding That Perhaps They May Have Just A Little After All.

Oh, But It Was Splendid The Things Women Were Doing For Men All The Time, Thought Jane. Making Them Feel, Perhaps Sometimes By No More Than A Casual Glance, That They Were Loved And Admired And Desired When They Were Worthy Of None Of These Things - Enabling Them To Preen Themselves And Puff Out Their Plumage Like Birds And Bask In The Sunshine Of Love, Real Or Imagined, It Didn't Matter Which.

She Had Always Been An Unashamed Reader Of Novels.