“Your teeth are chattering! I’ll make you some hot chocolate!” Cathy cried. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. Her eyes were wide and bright. “She told you that?” “Yes. You have no grasp upon the essential facts of life (I pray God you never may), and in your rash ignorance you are prepared to dash into positions that may end in lifelong regret. She found an old drunk wandering the streets. Spurlock relaxed, suddenly, and sank deeply into his pillows. I’ll have it out with him. Mind, when we were all growed up, it were different. As a net result she had come to think of all married people much as one thinks of insects that have lost their wings, and of her sisters as new hatched creatures who had scarcely for a moment had wings.
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