When he faced Spurlock, the granite was cracked and rived; never had Spurlock seen such dumb agony in human eyes. 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. Gossip was the driving force in Sheila’s existence. "Come with me, my love, come—come," cried his mother, seizing his hand, and endeavouring to force him away.
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