It frightened her to behold her heart and mind thus laid bare; but the chapter following would reassure her. 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. Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck. Remember that.
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