Her mother informed her of the betrothal on the first painful day of her menarche, shortly after her eleventh birthday. ” She replied. "Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation. Wrap yourself in my cloak, and keep it. She reloaded. The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing.
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