[Wordlessly, he shuffles his own cargo about long enough to reach for her boots and knot the two sets of laces to each other, making a little handle of sorts for her to use to hold them rather than having to keep track of them by the sides.

The secondary bonus is, it gives him an excuse to keep his face tilted down, which is helpful in light of the mention of swimming costumes. He recalls the pictures he'd been shown; imagining Rosalind in one of them is both scandalous and nervewracking.]

A proper one, I hope. The contemporary variety aren't at all fit for...well, anything, really.

[HUFF HUFF VICTORIAN SENSIBILITIES]

We're by far her best customers by now. Surely she'll agree to something appropriate.