\" She said. 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. Her eyes were soft and blue, arched over by dark brows, and fringed by long silken lashes. He had sufficient strength to wait upon himself. Gerald saw her eyes change as she recognised him. She was not altogether surprised when she found a deer, gutted of its entrails and strung with a garland of flowers, on the cave’s doorstep one humid summer morning. “If my own mother was alive,” sobbed Ann Veronica, “she would understand.
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