How did you ask a man, “Oh, by the way, did you ask me to marry you the other day or were you merely suggesting I become your mistress?” Formality was the key to surviving this, she hoped.

Imp. It’s short for ImPrudence – much more appropriate. Whoever named you Prudence was ill-advised. There is not a shred of prudence or caution in you!” He observed her indignant reaction with patent approval, then commented affably, “You know, huffing and puffing like that shows off your bosom very prettily.

Nanny McBride,” she said with a straight face. His old nanny. His eyes flew open. “Nanny McBride?” “I’m sure she’d be much better than I am at administering a good whipping. Yes, I can just see Nanny McBride in a red French corset with black lace – ” “Stop!” he roared. He shuddered. “That’s an image that’s going to stick in my mind forever. Horrible.

And they say an addiction to novels is bad for you.

I was taught to show respect to old people,” she said sweetly, adding, “no matter how little they may deserve it.

Because the forgiven one was always in the wrong. Forgiven didn’t mean forgotten.

Family can hurt you much more than outsiders can.

If you were mine, I’d never leave you, Prudence. I couldn’t.

You know your fear is both false and illogical, but you fear it anyway.

One word frees us all the weight and pain of life: That word is Love. -Sophocles