The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper. ‘Sergeant Trodger is who I am. But, alas! Ah Cum shrugged philosophically. She was like an angel with one wing. ‘To read and write, of course, and to sew. "What have you seen?" inquired Lady Trafford.
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