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‘I was born at Marlott,’ she said, catching at his words as a help, lightly as they were spoken. ‘And I grew up there. And I was in the Sixth Standard when I left school, and they said I had great aptness, and should make a good teacher, so it was settled that I should be one. But there was trouble in my family; my father was not very industrious, and he drank a little.’

‘Yes, yes. Poor child! Nothing new.’ He pressed her more closely to his side.

‘And then—there is something very peculiar about it—about me.’

Tess’s breath quickened.

‘Yes, dearest. Never mind.’

‘I—I—am not a Durbeyfield, but a D’Urberville—a descendant of the same family as those who owned the old house we passed. And—we are all gone to nothing!’

‘A D’Urberville!—Indeed! And is that all the trouble, dear Tess?’

‘Yes,’ she answered faintly.

‘Well—why should I love you less after knowing this?’

‘I was told by the dairyman that you hated old families.’