She is all edge.' 'What a remarkable scar that is upon her lip!' I said.
Steerforth's face fell, and he paused a moment.
'Why, the fact is,' he returned, 'I did that.' 'By an unfortunate accident!' 'No.

I was a young boy, and she exasperated me, and I threw a hammer at her.

A promising young angel I must have been!' I was deeply sorry to have touched on such a painful theme, but that was useless now.
'She has borne the mark ever since, as you see,' said Steerforth; 'and she'll bear it to her grave, if she ever rests in one--though I can hardly believe she will ever rest anywhere.

She was the motherless child of a sort of cousin of my father's.

He died one day.