He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. A pair of startled blue eyes looked up into his. 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. ” “And what do you think I ought to do?” “Exactly!” He lifted a paper-weight and dabbed it gently down again. It drives one mad at times.
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