“I believed that he was the great multi-millionaire. ’ ‘Yes, but when I think about this, I do not think I can do so,’ she said candidly. The picture in her mind altered and she saw again the way Gerald had looked with consternation upon the bruises he had inflicted on her wrist. 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. “Was he really?” She asked, waiting on baited breath. She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years. "I beg your pardon," he cried; "but really—ha! ha!—you must excuse me!—that is so uncommonly diverting—ha! ha! Do let me hear it again?—ha! ha! ha!" "Upon my word," rejoined Wood, "you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes. " This exclamation had scarcely escaped him, when the discharge of a pistol was heard, and a bullet whizzed past his ears.
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