Rose and Gwyneth bond over hating math, because math is hard, and Gwyneth cops to cutting one Sunday and running "down the heath," all on her own! Don't tell! Even Marianne from Sense & Sensibility is like, "Rebel yell, girlfriend," but Rose doesn't bat an eye: "I did plenty of that. I used to go down the shops with my mate Shareen. And we used to go and look at boys!" Gwyneth slaps those lips together faster than shackles on Hester Prynne, but Rose has not a care for her provincial morals: "Come on, times haven't changed that much! I bet you've done the same." She bugs her and bugs her until Gwyneth admits that she is totally crushing on "the butcher's boy," and his lovely smile, and Rose asks about his ass, and it's about now in the sleepover that I realize Gwyneth is going to die horribly. Rose advises her on asking him on a date or whatever, and Gwyneth says, "I swear, it is the strangest thing, miss. You've got all the clothes and the breeding but you talk like some sort of wild thing!" Which I love. She is! I love her! Rose thinks, "Maybe I am. Maybe that's a good fing. You need a bit more in your life than Mr. Sneed." Gwyneth protests that Sneed's not that bad, besides the twice-weekly rapes and working her to death all the time, because after all, her mum and dad died of the flu when she was twelve. Rose apologizes for their deaths, and Gwyneth looks at her face with gratitude (So dead!): "Thank you, miss. But I'll be with them again, one day. Sitting with them in paradise. I should be so blessed. They're waiting for me." (So very, very dead.) "Maybe your dad's up there waiting for you too, miss." Whoa.