“And now,” she said, splintering the surviving piece of coal into indignant flame-spurting fragments with one dexterous blow, “what am I to do? “I’m in a hole!—mess is a better word, expresses it better. . Surely his calculated desire to sit near her meant that his attention had surely been brought from its normal diversions into her realm. I can smell you. And if sometimes I grow heady—and it's in the blood— remind me of this day when you took me out of hell—a thief. It’s the sort of way a woman always does gloss over her ethical positions.
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