“It's a simple domestic tale, about a girl who has problems getting married, and how she deals with her relations and friends. Miss Dalrymple has quite an eye for character; I'd swear some of her people must be drawn from life, and it's no wonder she wants to remain anonymous.”

“...ever since she had read the girl's novel, a piece of artistry that struck her as wish-fulfilment at its most blatant...”

“I swear, Papa, I'd give my virtue if it would get my novels published,' she exclaimed in vexation. 'I'm certain we've tried everything else.”

“Really, the insufferable conceit of the man. How dared he have the unutterable gall to know how her knees weakened at the sight of him, how she felt full of life and spirit when he was with her, how his very touch sent fire coursing through her veins in a way she hadn't known existed outside the pages of lending-library novels!”

“I recall how I suspected at the time that my young friend was indulging in her first bout of calf love.”

“Was tomorrow going to see the end of her long-guarded virginity?”

“I believe that books must go through a fairly slow birthing process...”