] ] "You have not!" cried Catherine.

] Oh, but he had...and I, like you, felt awful for her. I think it's even more endearing that even when she is exclaiming, even when she is upset, her words are every bit as sanguine as she usually is; even though she must know that he speaks the truth, she says that it couldn't possibly be so.

Do you really think so? I took it as more of a horrible realization that you don't want to admit is true. i.e. This cannot be happening to me; I don't believe it... though of course you really do.

I didn't read it like that, but you might very well be correct.

] ] Poor Catherine!! My, how I want to run over JT with a tank or something! What awfulness, what horridness, what Thorpeness!

] Ah, yes! The very word. And I can think of no better usage for a steamroller, except perhaps to build a No-John-Thorpe-and-his-horses-allowed road. ;-) There ought to be one place at least where he and his beasts will not be a menace. ;-)

Oh, I want to live there! But tell me, will there be plenty of horrid abbeys on this road as well? I can't do without at least one corpse in a closet.