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. '—'No fear o' that,' thought I. ‘She?’ ‘Damnation!’ He saw her frown, and added at once, ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am. ” “When?” “At tea. "In with him!" "Ay—ay, yer hon'r," cried the foremost chairman, lending a helping hand.
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