The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. Now I have done something for which you might be pardoned if you did kill me. She got up, drew up her blind, and stared out of window at a dawn-cold vision of chimneys for a time, and then went and sat on the edge of her bed. Cathy had not even noticed that she herself was wet and trailing water everywhere. Still, they bob up occasionally.
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