“But your hair,” he gasped. Do you know, Lady Ferringhall, I am proud that your sister permits me to call myself her friend. Yet she never once thought of changing it. ‘Me, I am Mademoiselle Charvill, the granddaughter of Monsieur Jar-vis Re-men-ham. Now the pig knew where to find her—for it would not take long for a Catholic to locate the convent in Golden Square—even if she escaped him here.
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