On the stranger's appearance, she was seated near the window busily occupied with her needle. “Poor Lucy!” Cathy exclaimed as she rushed in the door, umbrella sheathed. ” “I began to be afraid you might not come at all. They were so nearly alike that the difference would be due to a shaky hand. “Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint. "You've got him?" demanded Ireton.
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