“Who took care of you after she died?” “My father. If it wasn’t for the fear that after all—but we won’t think of that. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. Sheila had dropped glaring hints that she knew, which Chuck tacitly acknowledged with a lowered gaze.
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