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Floote, what is going on? Do they think I am contagious? Should I assure them I was born with a nose this size?

Gail Carriger

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Gail Carriger
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: May 4
Archaeologist
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Bolinas
California
Noses
Size
Born
Going
Think
Thinking
Assure
Contagious
Nose

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I suspect it may be like the difference between a drinker and an alcoholic the one merely reads books, the other needs books to make it through the day.
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Even Alexia, spinster that she was, was given an allowance large enough to dress her to the height of fashion— although she did tend to stick to trends a little too precisely. The poor thing could not help it. Her choice of clothing simply lacked soul.
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The bowl landed, in glorious perfection, atop the head of Mrs Barnaclegoose, who was not the kind of woman to appreciate the finer points of being crowned by trifle.
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Who doesn’t want an exploding wicker chicken?
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Really, Channing,” remonstrated Alexia, “did you have to eat the man’s dog? I am convinced you will experience terrible indigestion.
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Felicity grimaced in agreement. “No, you are perfectly correct. I did not realize how vital the approbation of one’s butler is in allowing for nocturnal autonomy.
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Alexia,” she hissed to her friend, “there are knees positively everywhere. What do I do?
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He...boasted an unassuming mustache, which was perched atop his upper lip cautiously, as though it were slightly embarrassed to be there and would like to slide away and become a sideburn or something more fashionable.
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What have I done thins time? he paused to ask before continuing with his oral expedition about her body: her husband, the intrepid explorer.
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Alexia had spent long hours wondering over that mustache. Werewolves did not grow hair, as they did not age. Where had it come from? Had he always had it? For how many centuries had his poor abused upper lip labored under the burden of such vegetation?
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His lordship can eat my fat—
Gail Carriger
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Captain Niall, having apparently resigned himself to losing his quarry, was savaging her horsehair petticoat into teeny, tiny shreds. Really, what did my poor petticoat do to offend?
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And I find perfect beauty excessively boring, don't you?
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It's no good choosing your first husband from a school for evil geniuses. Much too difficult to kill.
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Alexia gave in to his demanding touch, but only, of course, because he sounded so pathetic. It had nothing, whatsoever to do with her own quickening heartbeat.
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...you have been fraternizing with warewolves overmuch! Military men can be terribly bad for one's verbal concatenation!
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I never gossip. I observe. And then relay my observations to practically everyone.
Gail Carriger
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Lady Maccon cogitated. She would like to encourage this new spirit of social-mindedness. If Felicity needed anything in her life, it was a cause. Then she might stop nitpicking everyone else.
Gail Carriger
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Madame Lefoux shrugged. I do not know about that, my lady. I mean to say, one's life is one thing one's technology is an entirely different matter.
Gail Carriger
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You do realise modern social mores exist for a reason? I was hungry, allowances should be made.
Gail Carriger