We girls, my sister and I, were left quite alone when our father died, and I made up my mind to make some little place in the world for myself. “Lady Ferringhall, sir. H’m. He thought of his wealth for once from a different point of view. ‘I—I mean, she were—’ ‘Pretty as a picture?’ suggested Gerald. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers.
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