Pleasure for Pleasure

The racetrack was extremely noisy. One had to assume that such things existed in Paris as well, but as far as she remembered, her maman had never mentioned such a thing. She could ask her father, but he was at their estate in Southwick, occupied with the dogs. Papa seemed to spend most of his day letting dogs in and out of the house. It was no way for a French aristocrat to behave, particularly one with a houseful of servants.
Sylvie sighed. The only enjoyable thing about the racecourse was that English gentlewomen

want Sylvie to be silent: her flow of enchanting, laughing conversation enlivened every minute. In fact, once he f

“Every woman wants a husband; they are so necessary to one’s comfort, like a flannel night rail in the winter. Necessary, but tedious to acquire.”