She could feel her face turning beet red. "You have defied me, and shall feel my power. It was neither good nor bad. The wretch you confide in has sworn to hang you. She flung aside every plan she had in life, every discretion. Cathy stood in the bedroom hallway in her faded blue bathrobe. " "So it seems," observed the woollen-draper, "and for every one else, too. Women are hypocrites to the last—true only to themselves. . Never any doubt of it.
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