Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult. 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. ” “You! Why, you have been an angel to her,” he exclaimed impatiently. Spurlock was invariably at the high desk in the early morning, poring over ledgers, and giving the beach and the stores an occasional glance.
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