Her straight strawberry blonde hair was exactly Cathy’s. She always dawdled, so it was easy. McClintock's astonishment merged into a state of mild hypnosis. He had forgiven everybody. “Cheveney wouldn’t have anything to say about it, as it happens,” he remarked, a little grimly. Wood's favourite sitting-room, and her image was so intimately associated with it, neither the carpenter nor his daughter could muster courage to enter it before.
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