F. Jackson, I could almost fancy we had met before. Sheila, a normally sound sleeper, woke one night to find both her husband and her foster daughter had snuck from their beds, and this infuriated her. “What a gloomy person you are!” she murmured. Still it was possible, and the difficulty was only a fresh incitement. She flared her upper lip, baring her canines which had extended by half an inch.
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