‘Don’t try to turn it off,’ ordered Miss Froxfield. "However, I will be there. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. ‘Who me, sir? Lor’ no, sir. The larger problem at hand was drugging her foster sister, Shari, into a deep sleep.
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