” “Does she have to sell her soul to the Devil?” Lucy asked, feeling stupid. Two children, who had been caught in the jam-closet: ingratiating smiles, back of which lay doubt and fear. Lucy cringed, her eyes widening. “I think,” he said, “that some one ought to warn her. 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. "You've got him?" demanded Ireton.
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