That her husband was not touching her anymore grew to be like a disease, something to be cured. But what's to be done?" "The first thing I do," replied Jack, "will be to visit my poor mother in Bedlam. They seem to spend their time yawning and inspecting their neighbour’s dresses through those hateful glasses. His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away. Cathy rushed out from the kitchen, all smiles, with Lucy behind her. Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. She shut her lips hard, her jaw hardened, and she set herself to struggle with him.
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