To start with, look at all the books: There were her Edith Wharton novels, arranged not by title but date of publication; there was the complete Modern Library set of Henry James, a gift from her father on her twenty-first birthday; there were the dog-eared paperbacks assigned in her college courses, a lot of Dickens, a smidgen of Trollope, along with good helpings of Austen, George Eliot, and the redoubtable Brontë sisters.
ON HIATUS
♔Katie, twenty-two, londoner, historian in training. I like F. Scott Fitzgerald's flappers & philosophers, Audrey Hepburn films and tiaras on the steps of the Metropolitan museum of Art.