“I’m sorry, ma’am, to seem the cause of any disturbance, but this,” he pointed to Anna, “is my wife. 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. The Night-Cellar XVIII. Caution forced her to speak calmly. “Good-bye, John,” she said simply. On this side of the canal she has no place to go. Between the Jew and the attendant came Jack Sheppard; while a crowd of servants, attracted by the news, that the investigation of a robbery was going forward, lingered at the doorway in hopes of catching something of the proceedings. “Your teeth are chattering! I’ll make you some hot chocolate!” Cathy cried.
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