Practice Typing
Wuthering Heights - Brontë, Emily · 67 words
As it spoke, I discerned, obscurely, a childs face looking through the window. Terror made me cruel; and, finding it useless to attempt shaking the creature off, I pulled its wrist on to the broken pane, and rubbed it to and fro till the blood ran down and soaked the bedclothes. still it wailed, Let me in. and maintained its tenacious gripe, almost maddening me with fear.
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