Her mother informed her of the betrothal on the first painful day of her menarche, shortly after her eleventh birthday. Neither of these wards had beds, and the unfortunate inmates were obliged to take their rest on the oaken floor. She glanced into his face. “Anything is better than this—this stifled life down here. I am not come here to play the part of your father-confessor. "If you don't decide quickly, I'll scream," cried Mrs.
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