Her mother informed her of the betrothal on the first painful day of her menarche, shortly after her eleventh birthday. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. She sighed with relief. "Where to, master?" asked Ben, touching his woollen cap. Lord bless you marm! we sees plenty on 'em in our purfession. ‘What we have to find out is whether or not the wretched female is in fact Lord Charvill’s granddaughter.
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