His tongue was more ready, his wit more keen than usual. Cathy rushed out from the kitchen, all smiles, with Lucy behind her. I heard John was talking about you again from Jenny McIntyre. Believe me, the bitterness of it has almost departed, crushed out of me together with much of the weariness and sorrow I brought with me here by the nameless glory of these lonely months. I'm sure she'll let me go, though. ‘Well she does,’ insisted Miss Froxfield impenitently, and turned to Gerald. “I’ve got—I have to tell you this to make myself clear—a streak of ardent animal in my composition.
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