“The latest mode from Paris, the gown had a devastatingly low, square-cut bodice accentuated with the tiniest bit of sheer, gold trim that barely concealed a hint of dusky nipple. If the viscount appreciated her well-endowed bosom, what harm in teasing from afar that which he could never touch? Deeming it naught but a bit of harmless flirtation with a charming rogue, Diana paid little heed to the fleeting notion that she might actually be playing with fire.”

“She had never had a boy talk to her like that. There was no cover of bullshit, no flirtation, no added charm, but his look was searing. He was different from anyone she had known.”

“Death had to take her little by little, bit by bit, dragging her along to the bitter end of the miserable existence she'd made for herself. They never even knew what she did die of. Some spoke of a chill. But the truth was that she died from poverty, from the filth and the weariness of her wretched life.”

“She stared at this first bit of positive proof, the entrance to the rabbit hole from which she might never reemerge.”

“That innate love of melody, which she had inherited from her ballad-singing mother, gave the simplest music a power which could well-nigh drag her heart out of her bosom at times.”

“He saw the reflection of her face in a compact mirror as she painted on her re lips. She did it with such care, he had felt she was trapping something behind the colour.She had touched life, played with it a little, bit it was a slippery bugger,and finally we must close the door, and leave it behind.”