One post-midnight meeting, she could stand it no longer. She glanced towards her sister, and curiously enough found in her face some faint reflection of her own rather sombre mirth. She had not chosen her life, but she was foggy on whether or not it was right to deny others the right to join her in her suffering. He taught her how to read and write in Latin and Greek, often rewarding her for her efforts with a flower or a trinket. “Dear me! I wonder where Sir John picked her up. We were to have breakfast there and return in the evening. Voting wouldn’t do no ‘arm to ‘er.
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