She had told Emile. Sheila had dropped glaring hints that she knew, which Chuck tacitly acknowledged with a lowered gaze. ‘We’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it. They stopped talking, except to each other. She loved to walk through the gardens, graced with columns that loomed overhead. So, one day, because God was wroth, her mother ran away with a blackguard, and died in the gutter, miserably.
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