Sheppard raised her eyes, and fixed them upon her interrogator. Uttering a faint scream, she sank backwards, and would have fallen, if it had not been for the interposition of Blueskin, who, at that moment, staggered into the room with a candle in one hand, and the bottle in the other. I haven't forgotten her previous history. She slipped on white thin-soled tennis shoes with no socks, her ankles exposed as Shari had once suggested they be worn. You have told me that you cared.
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