Mrs. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. In concealing himself behind the timber, Mr. Cathy gave her a bear hug and patted her severe 252 hairdo. Her momentary instinct was to run to him and be comforted, like the old times. She took refuge in beating her pillow and inventing insulting epithets for herself. She had not been sufficiently prompted in relation to the ways of caravansaries; but her mind had been alert and receptive.
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