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The Gilded Chair A Novel [Melville Davisson Post, A.B. Wenzell and Arthur E. Becher] on leondumoulin.nl *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. This collection of​.
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• The Gilded Wolves
• Book review: The Gilded Chalet: Off-piste in literary Switzerland
• Why was I sent here?
• The gilded chair : a novel

Jason angled his head back just a touch in my direction. I felt other eyes on me too. On the walk there, footsteps echoing on the linoleum, faded voices muffling out from passing classrooms, I tried to think what it could be: Was it Joan? Was something wrong with her? This is how it is with me, always expecting the worst. But in our case, this sort of overreaction was justified.

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This is just what happens when you are discovered, as I was, at roughly age five, in a muddy ditch somewhere off Lake Shore Drive in the dead of winter. A little Jane Doe, barely breathing, no memories of anything that came before that night, no one to ever come looking for you. And you get raised by the kind nurse who eventually takes you in, names you, feeds you, clothes you. Terra, have a seat," Ms. Tollman said over the top of the rimless reading glasses perched on her nose when she saw me standing in the doorway of her office.

She squared up in her chair, watching me, until she finally spoke. There was just so much. Anything that could earn me extra cash for college or would sound good enough to help me clinch a scholarship to one of my dream schools. Internships, fellowships, essay contests—my mailbox and my mind flooded with the constant stream of applications and deadlines and hopes.

The Gilded Wolves

The principal took off her glasses and stared at me with a faint smile, a director waiting for the reaction shot she wanted. She laughed, a small, charmed chuckle. They just pluck the best and the brightest and place those students with a thriving Illinois enterprise for the semester. You will each be paired up with someone at this business who will act as a sort of advanced independent-study tutor and a mentor. And—"Glasses back on, she read from a paper. You may have seen her in the Tribune and on the news.

This is a tremendous privilege.

Book review: The Gilded Chalet: Off-piste in literary Switzerland

So I would be living at this place? From the beginning, they had plenty of advertising, and every issue afterward brought more. Tennie had taken it upon herself to rope in advertisers before they started, but soon no persuasion was needed. Then they handed off subscriptions and ads to an agent, who did it all professionally. It was time to go to Washington again. Tennie and James could run the brokerage firm in her absence. Victoria was careful to stroke their clients and make sure they felt personally cared for before she packed up three trunks and left on the train.

Why was I sent here?

Benjamin Butler was delighted to see her. He came to her hotel, and before and after their lovemaking, brought her up to date on what was going on in Congress. Victoria and Tennie had been supporting the Sixteenth Amendment to give the vote to women, but Benjamin told her it was a dead horse. Voting it into committee was a way to kill it. She should seek a different path to victory. He suggested that she focus on an argument that the Constitution gave the right to vote to all citizens, and women were citizens. She wrote an essay to that effect for the Weekly, and then followed it up two weeks later with a closely argued document based on constitutional law which Butler wrote and she went over, changing some of the language, then signed and sent on to New York.

He was a man who liked nudity. He liked her to leave her robe off while they were talking. Victoria viewed modesty as hypocrisy. If she was intimate with a man, why pretend to shudder if he wanted to look at her body as well as touch or enter it? A dynamic man who could teach her something fascinating and useful excited her. Such a man was worth knowing on every level. Butler was almost bald, but he had lush whiskers. His eyes were dark and piercing in their gaze. No one would ever call him handsome—he was short and resembled a pug—yet when he walked into a room, everyone knew he had arrived, men and women alike, and they turned to him.

He exuded an energy that was electric. Returning briefly to New York, she worked on a memorial—a petition by a private citizen to Congress. Butler would know how to approach that body. She would argue as she had in her articles that the Constitution already gave women the right to vote as citizens, and no further legislation was needed to assure that right. She would petition Congress to pass an act declaring that women were citizens and thus had suffrage. She carefully prepared her speech, consulting James and especially Stephen. She went over it again and again, strengthening the legal arguments.

She worked on the memorial until she thought she had something Congress would have to listen to—if she got the chance to stand before the lawmakers. Telegraphing Butler, she set off again. The better hotels of Washington were watering holes for members of Congress, their wives and mistresses, the lobbyists who swarmed around them. The public rooms were thick with smoke while the men drank mint juleps and whiskey skins. Before each introduction, Benjamin would prepare her, feeding her information so that she could charm them.

Adores Italian opera. Flatter him. Tell him you heard his last speech from the gallery and were moved to tears. Quickly her fame spread among the politicians: intelligent, beautiful and charming and unusually knowledgeable for a woman. She grew a little weary of Washington, where gossip was an obsession, a job, an amusement and a tool. She was spending more time with Butler than she had anticipated.

In the Senate, he was powerful and respected among the radical Republicans. He had led the unsuccessful attempt to impeach Johnson. He took her memorial in hand and went over it, reworking parts and making suggestions for other passages.

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Benjamin told her that many women suffragists were in town for a convention Isabella Beecher Hooker was organizing. Susan B. Anthony had pleaded with one of the congressmen on the House Judiciary Committee to move the Sixteenth Amendment granting the vote to women out of committee and onto the floor of the House. He told her Congress had more important questions to consider than such silliness. She responded that when women had the vote, their qu estions would gain importance at once.

But Susan and Isabella were stymied, she heard from Benjamin, who knew them all. Are you serious?

The gilded chair : a novel

He was not a tall man, but he was solidly built, like a bull on hind legs. He had some other characteristics imputed to bulls. She could feel his erection. For the miracle he had created for her, he deserved to have it used. For a short man, he was heavy. Sometimes she felt as if he would squeeze the breath out of her. He was a rough lover, heavy-handed, passionate, impulsive. Once they were launched, the bed could have caught fire and she did not think he would notice. She was more accustomed to men like James and Stephen, whom she must take in hand and excite, whom she led through the act.

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With Benjamin, it was as if she stepped into a swiftly moving river and the current took her. She enjoyed letting go. Once he entered her, he went on and on. She had no trouble reaching orgasm once, sometimes twice with him. His prick was thick, like the rest of him. It was more like rutting than making love, but quite satisfying. She did not have to flatter him, to cajole or sweet-talk.

He was about as sentimental as a spittoon. He did not speak of making love or joining; he simply called it fucking. He liked her body and praised it. He liked her without pretending more. She trusted him and his advice. They were allies. At this moment the Marchesa Soderrelli came through the shop door.