He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. It could only mean one thing—that her foster daughter was both a whore and a murderer! When Sheila confronted her about it, it was five in the morning. Then we can loiter and gossip to our heart’s content. ‘Beg pardon, miss, but I’m told as how—’ She broke off, her eyes widening, her jaw dropping open.
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