"For me—his master, Mr. She paced restlessly to the door and back again, biting her tongue on the hot words begging to be uttered. Supposing she saw the young man at dinner that night, emptying his bottle? She could not go to him, sit down and draw the sordid pictures she had seen so often. “You’ll do no such thing, Sheila. She dared not look directly at him, her head obscured by a gray hoodie, she had the slumped appearance of an androgynous adolescent.
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