In truth, Sheila never saw Lucy murder anyone at all, she only saw the blood. That same adventurousness that had already buoyed her through crises that would have overwhelmed any normally feminine girl with shame and horror now became uppermost again. She made a quick movement, and the hand fell away. I am gambling on his intuition. "I hope you don't imagine anything has gone wrong, Sir. Jack may be capable of much that is wicked, but he would never lift his hand against his friend,—of that I am assured.
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