When Sheila was in a bad mood, she berated her new foster daughter for streaks on the windows, dust on the figurines, for crooked bed sheet corners, and floors that had not been waxed properly. Do you know what? You're some sea goddess and you're only fooling us. She could hear him from the lower floor as he locked the gates and drew up the wooden part of the bridge. "Not a syllable," replied Wild.
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