She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features. In truth, Sheila never saw Lucy murder anyone at all, she only saw the blood. Few men could have done as much. And she seemed always to keep one eye on Ann Veronica’s dress. He saw her young and graceful back as she descended from the carriage, severely ignoring him, and recalled a glimpse he had of her face, bright and serene, as his train ran out of Wimbledon.
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