She tightened her bandage and sat back, biting her lip. “I heard your voices, and the hall is draughty. 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. She flared her upper lip, baring her canines which had extended by half an inch. “Why will you not be sensible? Go back to your old life and your old friends, and forget all about Paris and this absurd delusion of yours.
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