She kissed Cathy's soft cheek as she entered the warm kitchen. Manning, relinquishing his cup without answering her question, “when I hear you talk of earning a living, it’s as if I heard of an archangel going on the Stock Exchange—or Christ selling doves. But this time she wanted nothing for herself: she wanted something for Hoddy—success. The poor boy, whose hands were pinioned behind him, looked very pale, but neither trembled, nor exhibited any other symptom of alarm.
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