“That sounds so uncouth,” she murmured. 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. The Ragged Edge. \" Cathy poured her a glass. She had never thought of him at all in that way before. Now the doctor had the "feel" that somewhere ahead lay danger. With such qualifications as she possessed, two chief channels of employment lay open, and neither attracted her, neither seemed really to offer a conclusive escape from that subjection to mankind against which, in the person of her father, she was rebelling.
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