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But then, because my papa had no money, you understand, he sent me to a convent. Me—I’m nothing but a country wench, and one who went to the bad. Joan told me it was hung somewhere in the house, only I couldn’t remember where after all this time. I believe that I have heard my sister speak of you. The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate. And I suppose it is too much to expect that any entirely English young lady would be prepared to tolerate me for the remainder of my life.
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