In truth, Sheila never saw Lucy murder anyone at all, she only saw the blood. "I fear not," replied Jack, despondingly. If you can’t see as how there ain’t nothing in this barrack of a place to help me do the job, I can. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative.
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