” He replied. " Sir Rowland looked at her for a moment, as if he meditated some terrible reply. ‘Comment? What do you say?’ Gerald looked down into her face, and found himself touched by the uncertainty he saw there. 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. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. She guessed that he probably slept all of three hours a night at most. The atmosphere was 46 strained and deathly quiet at the dining room table. Wait a moment. She never expected to get her ladyship home alive.
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