You call it a lot of nicknames—“Babs” and “Bibs” and “Viddles” and “Vee”; you whack at it playfully, and it whacks you back. Even if he were an old friend, you couldn't afford to do it. He had just arrived from Manchester, whence he had been summoned by that treacherous thief-taker. But he would die if he continued in this course. I keep my finger on the pulse of things. “Poor Lucy!” Cathy exclaimed as she rushed in the door, umbrella sheathed. Me, you may have.
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