The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead. “You have a boyfriend! That’s fine by me, it’s your business, but you’d better stop sneaking around because Sheila’s got eyes in the back of her head!” He heard Sheila utter a loud percussive blast of a snore from the master bedroom. She seemed tense when not playing, he noted, more so than she had during the first two pieces. " And he proceeded to unfold his scheme to the woollen-draper. "Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus. ” “Of course,” said Capes, and threw a newly lit cigar into the fire through sheer nervousness.
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