There has never been a white woman at McClintock's. ‘Woof!’ uttered Trodger, gazing at the lady in some awe. If he got her outside, surely the soldiers would see her and intervene. It could only mean one thing—that her foster daughter was both a whore and a murderer! When Sheila confronted her about it, it was five in the morning. Last time I left home I felt as hard as nails.
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