Weeks hurled past, weeks that turned into months. Think better of it. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. . ToC Jack Sheppard's first object was to free himself from his handcuffs. 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. “I am developing ailments,” she said, meeting his questioning eyes.
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