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Not that I'm complaining, you understand. I love Jane Eyre. I adore Jane Eyre. It's one of my all-time favourite books, I've lost count of the number of times I've read it - and I've long since said you can keep Mr Darcy, I'll have Mr Rochester any day.
But even so. Another Jane Eyre? This is, what, the sixteenth version now? Four in the last
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