’ No Latin? And no guns or daggers, naturally. Sheila pounded the kitchen table, causing the bell jar with the silk flowers to tip over and roll to the floor. The thought did not occur to her, for all thought had flown out of her head. Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. ‘Tee-ree-sa. .
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