’ ‘What for?’ asked Gerald, half laughing, as he put his hand in his pocket and brought out his elegant pistol. 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 atmosphere was 46 strained and deathly quiet at the dining room table. We are nuns. "Who knows but this key may open a golden lock one of these days?" And, picking it up, he thrust it into his pocket.
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