Best assured of that. "These writer chaps are queer birds. No breakfast, he’s had no dinner, hardly a mouthful of soup— since yesterday at tea. “Your teeth are chattering! I’ll make you some hot chocolate!” Cathy cried. They were childless and servantless, and they had reduced simple living to the finest of fine arts. “What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. You women, with your tricks of evasion, you’re a sex of swindlers.
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