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Still, Antwerp, the parties, my husband’s talks–all of it fed my mind. I’d hardly set down my quill before I took it up again, writing stories unconnected–of a pimp, a virgin, a rogue–strung up like pearls on a thread. … ‘I am very ambitious, yet ’tis neither for Beauty, Wit, Titles, Wealth, or Power, but as they are steps to raise me to Fames Tower.’O minor victory! O small delight! My star began to rise.
