"Those rabble rousers are costing me a week's profit," groused Edward. That was the third time he complained about the demonstrators picketing his manufactory since the last hour.
"Yes, dear," Selenia murmured. Her paw pressed on the book she borrowed from the circulating library when it threatened to slip down her skirt. For an instant Selenia wondered if Edward knew that his fiancee was reading the book that inspired the agitators at his manufactory. She doubted it; he thought her nothing more than an agreeable airhead with a decent dowry.
Selenia reached for another goldfish. Although tea will be served soon, Edward's nattering was stretching her last nerve. Stuffing her face was the better option to engaging him in this horrid mood. She will need to ask her maid to let out the waists of her gown if the strikes keep going on.
