‘Me, I am Mademoiselle Charvill, the granddaughter of Monsieur Jar-vis Re-men-ham. A single blanket constituted his sole covering at night. “Get me some brandy and my bag. ‘Something for you, Lucy?’ he asked, interrupting a heated argument that had obviously been in progress for some little time before their arrival. But it is no longer necessary. If you could see how it gives them souls, women who have taken things for granted, who have given themselves up altogether to pettiness and vanity.
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