“Poor Lucy!” Cathy exclaimed as she rushed in the door, umbrella sheathed. The bars dropped noiselessly and slowly down, till the chain tightened at the staple. A single blanket constituted his sole covering at night. She is the image of what I was like, and she has a better voice. There was no marriage, and I hated, oh, how I hated the man. I didn’t betray you, I swear I didn’t.
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