By the side of her plate was a small key. “Won’t you tell me why you have come to England?” she said. It was excellently done, especially as she loved good dinners. Sheila was often a terror to her husband Mark, who seemed afraid of her. Shari squealed, clutching her towel around her. Her sensitive ears could hear her foster mother snoring in front of the television. This was the reason he had raised his little independent Company of Light Infantry and joined the West Kent Militia. “These are her rooms,” she said. \"No, what?\" She said. Jeez! It was about time.
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