Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from Red Hair
I am twenty, and up to the week before last, when Mrs. Carruthers got ill, and died in one day, I had had a fairly decent time at odd moments when she was in a good temper.
There is no use pretending even when people are dead, if one is writing down one's real thoughts. I detested Mrs. Carruthers most of the time. A person Whom it was impossible to please. She had no idea of justice, or of any thing but her own comfort, and What amount of pleasure other people could contribute to her day!
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