She had treated him badly; she had hurt him and her aunt; she had done wrong by their standards, and she would never persuade them that she had done right. For what she lacked in appearance, Sheila compensated in gossip. She had fallen into it naturally, the only expression of the dance she had ever seen or known, and that a stolen sweet. “You could tell me but you’d have to kill me?” He asked with a sardonic grin on his face.
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