Now, I'll be getting along. “Your teeth are chattering! I’ll make you some hot chocolate!” Cathy cried. “Yes, I will go,” she promised, with a queer little smile. But this was but a momentary gleam of personal application, and at this time she followed it up no further. She had begun alone. Jacques, Jacques!’ His face was white, but his eyes were open, if a trifle glazed. "Speak out—don't be alarmed," said Wood, in a kind and encouraging tone.
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