“Could you be Eliza Doolittle, do you think?” She thought about the fiery flower seller, determined to make something of herself without selling her soul to do it. “Gosh, I hope so.” “Then do that.” Louise nodded crisply, as if it were as simple as that. “There are different kinds of strength. And I, for one, see Eliza’s grit in you, Ginny. It’s something to be admired.”
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