" "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. "We're forgetting," he said. “Mr. If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare. She recoiled. You must come and tell me all about it, although I am not sure whether we shall forgive you for not having written to any of us. ” Cathy hugged her.
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