Public: Anon / Clementine M
I have your [...] religious symbol.
[Clem M: as Irene A]
What is it you lost?
I write to express my regret at the flimsy substance of the particulars at Thursday's entertainment. Is London truly London if the ladies at such dances merely stand at the sides of the walls and lower their eyes in meek appreciation of the music rather than the vehicle of the event itself?
We are at the brink of a new century, an enlightenment, one in which a maid is not the parcelled belonging of her father but might express regard for her own interests and her own passage through the world. Dances are but small pleasures but expressions of what has become usual rather than spectacle. We should be taking strides to embrace the novel and the spectacular rather than holding candles in corners and pretending the light reaches to the corners of the room.
What man, what woman might celebrate companionship if it comes white-gloved, with eyes cast down, with nary a word on her lips but those echoed belonging to others?