The gallant woollen-draper was now in his thirty-sixth year. “H’m!” he said, regarding the wreckage with a calmer visage. 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. " Mrs. “What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece.
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