The obsessive rules of etiquette struck Emily as mean-spirited, like the old trick of tying someone’s shoelaces under the table. It was only fun if y… - M. K. Hobson

In New Bethel, we take the word serious. We whip whores, we hang thieves, and we burn sorcerers.

“I wasn’t sure if we were still engaged.”
“After everything we’ve been through? After true love conquered all?” Emily shook her head. “Being dead had done nothing to alleviate your obtuseness, Mr. Stanton.”
“Being dead allowed me to learn the heart’s deepest secret,” he said. “That sometimes love—even true love—isn’t enough.”
”But it’s a start,” Emily said.

Emily pounded on the door, assuming it would do no good, but finding the act of pounding very satisfying indeed.