” She taunted. She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool. 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. "Close the doors below! Loose the dogs! Curses! they don't hear me! I'll ring the alarm-bell.
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