She clenched her hands together and leaned forward in her chair, gazing steadily into the fire. She ran to the lamp and extinguished it. What our dear mother would say back home I dread to think. Two of these had been her particular intimates at the High School, and had done much to send her mind exploring beyond the limits of the available literature at home. “Poor Lucy!” Cathy exclaimed as she rushed in the door, umbrella sheathed.
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