She is your sister, and God knows I wish her none. . ’ The lodgekeeper had been in fine fettle by the time Major Alderley had produced his investigatory force at the gates. Beyond was a narrow bridge, crossing a circular building, at the bottom of which lay a deep well. If he was asleep, then she much regretted that she must wake him up. A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. “Until a girl can go away as a son does and earn her independent income, she’s still on a string. One would say she could try to —to prevent that her daughter will go to the convent.
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