Me Me at the Moors
Me Me at the Moors
"There are ghosts in their heather, gold in our hills, and I know which I prefer."
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A rugged heath.
A gentleman of uncertain character.
A young ingenue of unbesmirched morality.
Furze; rain; gorse; rugged hill; wending dale; brook and briarthorn. A wealth of subclauses.
Coruscating and often brusque dialogue, rising to a pitch of sensual tension that quite makes the heart beat under its cravat.
These are the ingredients of the Gothic romance, and reader, I find them bewitching. Maybe because we don’t have moors in America I don’t think. They seem the provenance of good love and evil mystery to me. There are ghosts in their heather, gold in our hills, and I know which I prefer.
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