He heard the woman talking again. “How crude you are, Anna!” she exclaimed with a little sigh. CHAPTER XVIII The doctor reached for the key and studied it sombrely. Distress, deep-rooted, and age old. Lucy slipped upstairs silently. The sense of publicity, of people coming and going about them, kept them both unemotional. It was the blood she found that cemented her decision that her foster daughter was a criminal. She gaped at its keep, at least ten feet tall, a frightening gray coffin turned upright. “You fill me with happiness, John.
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