By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. At this moment, a door was opened below; lights gleamed on the walls; and the figures of Rowland and Sir Cecil were distinguished at the foot of the stairs. ‘And if not her, for she is dead, then me. " This business over, she returned to the bedside with the key. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. ‘You don’t mind if I sit down?’ She considered him a moment, her head a little on one side. 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. A thing which had mystified her since childhood, a smouldering wonder why it should be, and until now she had never felt the urge to investigate. It had been discussed in silence.
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