What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. She enjoyed preparing the evening meals, the smells of potatoes roasting in the oven, the stink of onions in the pan, the crackle of chicken frying. " "Well, Jack," said Jonathan, who had looked at him with surprise not unmixed with admiration, "you are a bold and clever fellow, I must allow. It was impulsive and natural. "She's glorious!" He knew that he must hoodwink this keeneyed Scot, even as he must hoodwink everybody: publicly, the devoted husband; privately, the celibate. But the current rumblings of internal discontent across the Channel were productive of unease in certain quarters.
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