Her mother had died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married off—one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could of her father. “You may not leave. In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. I wish to rise in the world, mademoiselle, and you are going to help me.
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