’ His colour deepened. 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. "If we take him, I don't mind giving you a share—say a fourth—provided you lend a helping hand. She seemed tense when not playing, he noted, more so than she had during the first two pieces. " "I'm not afraid, mother," said the little girl, smelling at the bouquet.
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