When Sheila was in a bad mood, she berated her new foster daughter for streaks on the windows, dust on the figurines, for crooked bed sheet corners, and floors that had not been waxed properly. ‘Lord in heaven, did I do that?’ exclaimed Gerald remorsefully. " And he proceeded to handcuff his captive. It was enough. ” She turned her face to the fire, gripped her hands upon her elbows, and drew her thin shoulders together in a shrug. She dreaded leaving him for the night, but separated herself finally.
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