She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action. “Call me Cathy, John. I sometimes laid away my father's clothes in his trunk. . The important secret remained locked in my breast, but I resolved to be avenged. Mr. You have shown an almost feverish anxiety to eliminate from your personal appearance all that reminded me of you —when we first met.
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