" How dare you!’ Myrtle’s voice was no longer girlish. It was full-lunged and hard-edged, like that of an angry cat. ‘Do you think that was vanity? I was fighting for my family’s survival, and my looks were the only weapon I had! I needed Dr Jacklers to say your father’s death was an accident. I needed Mr Clay to change the picture, so that we could use it to dispel rumours back in England. So I was the rich, pretty widow who counted on them, and might be grateful enough to marry them some day.
‘This is a battlefield, Faith! Women find themselves on battlefields, just as men do. We are given no weapons, and cannot be seen to fight. But fight we must, or perish. "

― Frances Hardinge