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. ‘Oh, my God, Melusine, what have I done?’ Melusine shook her head. ‘Oh, my God, she’s gone!’ Wrenching his hand from his friend’s slackened grasp, he darted for the door, Roding behind him. ’ Melusine had crossed to the window that overlooked the front of the house, and was trying to peep through a crack in the shutters. ” “Now look here, Ann Veronica,” said Mr.
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