The white haze of poison clouded her eyes. She did not want to seem to shrink from conversation, but all sorts of odd questions were running through her mind. Easily. 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. \" \"Um, liar liar pants on fire. Then he threw the letter at me. The air, perfumed with the delicious fragrance of the new-mown grass, was vocal with the melodies of the birds; the thick foliage of the trees was glistening in the sunshine; all nature seemed happy and rejoicing; but, above all, the serene Sabbath stillness reigning around communicated a calm to her wounded spirit.
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