Later, at the bottom of that envelope I found a letter. At once. 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. “I do not know you,” she said coldly. It will not cost you more than six hundred to reach your destination. She doesn’t like you because she says the Beck’s are not ‘our kind of people’ which is her code for them not being rich enough.
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