As the day wore on, the crowds diminished,—many who would not submit to the turnkey's demands were sent away ungratified,—and at five o'clock, only two strangers, Mr. Her straight strawberry blonde hair was exactly Cathy’s. Neither of them joined in the applause which followed upon her exit. “I want to be your friend,” he said. “How are you feeling?” She asked. They were sitting alone, Lucy. She wished she had not stood up. She put a hand to the lad’s cold cheek and choked on a sob.
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