“By the time Domenica arrived at the Gothic Revival sandstone building on Queen Street, she had put out of her mind all thought of Antonia's torrid affair - at least she assumed it was torrid, and anyway, she wondered if there was any point in having an affair which was not torrid.”

“Out here the sunsets were like Italian operas, torrid, emotional affairs that went on for three hours or more, hanging in the sky like burning castles.”

“A diary with no drawings of me in it? Where are the torrid fantasies? The romance covers?”

“I am one whose faith is, that love and friendship, with ardent natures, are like those trees of the torrid zone which yield fruit but once, and then die.”

“I continued past the door of the Pink Room to look round her door. She was propped on her pillows with The Sentimental Bloke and Persuasion beside her on the covers and a torrid bodice-ripper in her hands. Nice Marty Holden from the Book Exchange had been bringing romance novels by the boxful and she was getting through two a day, switching to Jane Austen when her brain needed decontaminating.”

“In the end, I think the relationships that survive in this world are the ones where two people can finish each other's sentences. Forget drama and torrid sex and the clash of opposites. Give me banter any day of the week. ”