" "God help me, what a muddle!" The cigar crumbled in Spurlock's hand. Then Sheila noticed the stains. She had once reconciled in her mind that she was happy as long as she had him. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. Narrow little beady brown eyes, and she’s got big eyebrows like dead caterpillars.
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