We don’t get into mischief,” said Mary indignantly. “It sort of happens to us, or around us, or in our general vicinity.

She knew the truth: that Frankenstein had created a female monster, and that the female monster had escaped. And she hid that truth. Knowing of Justine, she did the best she could, for another woman. She erased her from the story.

Your way of not bothering looks exactly like bothering, if you ask me.

A lady might feel fear, but she must not give in to it, or so her governess had taught her.

She would sip an elderflower tisane and he would drink a dark, aromatic espresso.

Was the house being watched? They could not see the Wolf Men, and more importantly, Catherine could not smell them. So taking a chance, they ran up the steps to the front door and rang the bell. It was opened almost at once. “Come in, come in quickly,” said Mrs. Poole. “Poor Miss Frankenstein has killed a man!

But then she put her hands on Mary’s shoulders and kissed both her cheeks. Well, Mary didn’t mind. Irene was the most interesting woman she had ever met. They were not in competition, but if they had been, she would happily have lost to Irene Norton.

And where do you get off calling yourself practical? You’re a writer.

Ah, well, when you explain it like that, it seems obvious,” said Mudge. “Of course, it always seems obvious once it’s been explained.

One does not have to dress in a way that is unflattering, or even unfashionable, to be rational – and comfortable. How can you expect women to exercise their faculties, nay, their rights, in clothes that confine them? We shall never be men’s equals while we lace ourselves into ill health and drape ourselves in fabric until we can scarcely move. Dress reform is almost as important to our cause as the vote.