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One cold winter day a little girl and her father arrived in London. Sara Crewe was seven years old, and she had long black hair and green eyes. She sat in the cab next to her father and looked out of the window at the tall houses and the dark sky. 'What are you thinking about, Sara?' Mr Crewe asked. 'You are very quiet.' He put his arm round his daughter. 'I'm thinking about our house in India,' said Sara. 'And the hot sun and the blue sky. I don't think I like England very much, Father.' 'Yes, it's very different from India,' her father said. 'But you must go to school in London, and I must go back to India and work.' 'Yes, Father, I know,' said Sara. 'But I want to be with you. Please come to school with me! I can help you with your lessons.' Mr Crewe smiled, but he was not happy. |
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