Practice Typing
Wuthering Heights - Brontë, Emily · 78 words
Oh, fie, silly child. I exclaimed. If you had any real griefs youd be ashamed to waste a tear on this little contrariety. You never had one shadow of substantial sorrow, Miss Catherine. Suppose, for a minute, that master and I were dead, and you were by yourself in the world. how would you feel, then. Compare the present occasion with such an affliction as that, and be thankful for the friends you have, instead of coveting more.
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