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"Your wife?" "His lawful wife," said Ruth, with fine dignity. " He stuffed the printed chintz into her arms and smiled into her eyes. Die game. 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. A drunken idea, Ah Cum had called it. " "Don't mention such a thing, Sir," interrupted the tapstress. .
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