“I will believe you. There are pretty much three types, those that accept, and those who run away, and those who fight. What has been the matter?” “Toothache,” he answered laconically. The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast. But after all, what did it matter whether she had secrets or not? To him she was not a woman but a symbol; and one did not investigate the antecedents of symbols. The imbecile. It could only mean one thing—that her foster daughter was both a whore and a murderer! When Sheila confronted her about it, it was five in the morning. And stony broke. Wood was not particularly fortunate in his own matrimonial connections. ’ ‘I do not lie to you now,’ she said, near frantic at the thought of losing him.
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