Neither of them joined in the applause which followed upon her exit. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. Wild had escaped. " There was a pause. 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. After what seemed like an eternity he turned right onto a dirt road that ended unceremoniously at a copse of leafless trees.
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