“How crude you are, Anna!” she exclaimed with a little sigh. You will begin to see it all opening out. You’ve placed me in a very exceptional position, Miss Stanley. Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. “And yet you still live, Butterfly. They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. This foster child’s name was Mary Lucia Iovelli, and we have photographic documents of a woman who looks exactly like you, dear.
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