"Wretch!" cried Jack. “Who do you think cares for your children as you dally with my husband, Clotilde?” Lucy asked. 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. “Don’t you understand? It is I whom you cared for in Paris, not Anna. —There, Mr. He shrugged and, to Gerald’s relief, made to leave at last. \"He still likes you, I believe. It was clear she wanted to get away from home, that she was impatient to get away from home.
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