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. ‘I don’t think you need do that, Melusine—if I may call you so. Lucy sat in the back seat as the trio sped through intersections in the old sedan. These sham ideals and advanced notions. I hope I may never come near her. She loved Florence, wandering the huge markets which bustled day and night. "Those tears will do you good.
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