One would say she could try to —to prevent that her daughter will go to the convent. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. "Stolen by a gipsy when scarcely five years old, Constance Trenchard, after various vicissitudes, was carried to London, where she lived in great poverty, with the dregs of society. “I may as well come up by this train. Everything was done in the most legal and imposing way, but the whole thing was a fraud. Anyhow, it were me as got you down to the wetnurse.
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