. . “This is my way back to my side of the Park,” she said. Perhaps I am still mad. . She would never forget the agony of that first meal in the great dining room. Gerald would certainly have demanded back his sword. Then Sheila noticed the stains. The will to live had returned. Now, for the cage, my pretty canary-bird. He would certainly welcome McClintock's advent. Her hair, once red, faded to a thin gray that she kept cut into a practical short bob.
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