Perhaps the day of her recompense was at hand. Caution forced her to speak calmly. It could only mean one thing—that her foster daughter was both a whore and a murderer! When Sheila confronted her about it, it was five in the morning. I thought that I was marrying Meysey Hill, not that creature. And the infernal thought of that kiss returned—the softness of her lips and the cool smoothness of her cheeks. The pistol, it was not loaded.
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