Then Sheila noticed the stains. “But about last night. As she approached, the carpenter's wife eyed her from head to foot, in the hope of finding something in her person or apparel to quarrel with. She slipped on white thin-soled tennis shoes with no socks, her ankles exposed as Shari had once suggested they be worn. “Oh yes,” said Miss Klegg; “I thought every one knew. Mike knocked on the door. His own peculiar genius—a miracle key to the hidden things in men's souls—had given him this immediate and astonishing illumination. Wood. You’ll end there one day, mark my words.
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