“I must explain to her. She wallowed for a time in the thought of Capes, unable to escape from his image and the idea of his presence in her life. No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. On the bench was set a quartern measure of gin, a crust of bread, and a slice of cheese. Denis, did you say? I hope that no one of our friends has met with an accident. In truth, Sheila never saw Lucy murder anyone at all, she only saw the blood.
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