‘Indeed?’ Gerald said politely. " "What gives you that idea?" "Well, we could find no letter of credit, no letters, no labels in his clothes—not a single clew to his real identity. Her clock had stopped—stopped at the very hour on which she had quitted the Mint! She had not the heart to wind it up again. 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.
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