They had not to tarry long. Marina had retired to bed, drinking wine slowly, sleeping when she was not drinking. What a mercy that the blow aimed at her by the ruffian, Wild, though it brought her to the brink of the grave, should have restored her to reason! Ah! she stirs. 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 glanced at Brendon, who stood by her side, tall and threatening.
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