Spurling, indignantly; "but I can tell you we have. You see—I didn’t understand. “Your teeth are chattering! I’ll make you some hot chocolate!” Cathy cried. I hate what I am. Why? He could preach the Word and deny Love!—tame the savage heart, succour broken white men!—pray with his face strained with religious fervour! The idea made her dizzy because it was so inexplicable. It made me wake up, and there I lay thinking of you, spending your nights up here all alone, and no one to look after you.
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