Any minute now she would appear _ in her flounced dress, her gold lorgnette, her thin little boors, all kinds of elegant refinements he had never had a taste of before, and with all the ineffable seductiveness of virtue yielding. The church, like a gigantic boudoir, was arranging itself around her.

That Flaubert guy makes Emma Bovary "appear like a thunderclap" played by Keira Knightley. And that is noteworthy because . . . there is a need for that expressive exactitude as denouement approaches. LWE hasn't reached any heights as a love story, sadly. Failure to illuminate. It's like saying there hasn't been a dinosaur around here in 65 million years, so why even talk about them? But they roamed this place for one hundred sixty million years and that's something. Love at full bore, flat out, perpetual, eternal, inexhaustible love - Gustave might put it "ineffable". I want Will & Jilly's transcendental journey to this grotto to stupify even Jane Austen-level admirers but how can I tell it when the internets x the web x the public domain is a dangerous spot for yodelling your PIN and the location of personal papers. There will be tomorrow and more tomorrows and this thing called cognitive complexity hasn't left town yet. With this blood, I thee test.