She worried for Cathy, working double shifts at the nearby family restaurant to help make ends meet. She smiled encouragingly, laying aside her plate and turning her chair from the table. Turning off again on the left, down Seacoal Lane, they arrived at the mouth of a dark, narrow alley, into which they plunged; and, at the farther extremity found a small yard, overlooked by the blank walls of a large gloomy habitation. " "Well, so long as he gets on his feet in the end. Your life is like a funeral March.
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