Franklin Library Jane Eyre Novels & Stories

she said, her tone still cold. I nodded, but a small sigh slipped out as I followed her downstairs. The house was quiet, almost too quiet. It felt like I was just going through the motions, each step mechanical. When we reached the living room, Hailey handed me a book from the pocket of her apron. It was Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë. She placed it in my hands without a word, but I couldn’t help the bitter laugh that bubbled up inside me.