I have told you already my name is Francine de Sor. If want to know more, I'm nineteen years old, and I come from the West Indies."
"Never mind their laughing, Miss de Sor. You are quite right, you have good reason to complain of us."
Miss de Sor, my name's Brown, and I'm queen of the bedroom.
In the disposition of the beds, Miss de Sor was placed between Cecilia on the right hand, and Emily on the left.
(Miss de Sor, allow me to apologize for the mean manner in which this school is carried on; the knives and forks are counted and locked up every night)--I say take that pair of scissors, Cecilia, and carve the cake, and don't keep the largest bit for yourself.
To avoid growing anti-Semitic rumblings, siblings change their name to Sors
(pronounced "shorsh," Hungarian for "destiny").