“Fog drifted on the ground like clouds, wrapping us in mist to our necks, often giving no vision beyond our noses. We had to feel our way along the muddy road, looking out at any bend for a road sign. My slippers were destroyed, and the hem of my skirt clung to my ankles, impeding my steps. “I wish I had my oriental trousers on,” I mentioned to Ronald. “Skirts are impossible in such weather as this.” I felt rather than saw Kestrel’s pinched face turn toward me in the fog. It was my wish to ingra...tiate the plague of a man to win his help in applying for a position as courier. To this end I explained a little further. “Adopting men’s clothing during my trip was a necessity. We lost our trunks when we were shipwrecked off Rhodes. Naturally, European clothing was not available.” “Do they not have seamstresses in the East?” “They do, but La Belle Assemblée is not available, so what the seamstresses sew is oriental clothing. I had either to dress like a Turkish lady, which meant wearing a veil and not speaking to any gentlemen, or dress like a man.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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