"The Beautiful Adulteress had been lent by Phoebe , and it must be finished by nightfall so that Phoebe could return it to Deborah Wilson, who had purloined it from her brother's saddlebag. Despite Miranda's eighteen years and elegant education at Philander Button's , despite avid perusal of this and similar books, she had not the vaguest notion of the horrifying behavior that resulted in one's becoming an adulteress. But that point was immaterial. It was the glorious palpitating romance that mattered. The melancholy heroes, the languishing heroines, the clanking ghosts, dismal castles and all entrancingly punctuated at intervals by a tender, a rapturous—but in any case a guilty—kiss."