“Mid-thirties. Amid a litter of nails without heads, screws without worms, and locks without wards, lay a glue-pot and an oilstone, two articles which their owner was wont to term "his right hand and his left. “See that man?” Sebastian would tap her on the shoulder on a crowded alleyway and say, “See how he lingers too long when he touches that little child? The glow in his eyes? That is lustful intent, my dear. Did he talk a little when you took him into the city?" "No. She’s naïve, and yet uncannily shrewd at times, and you daren’t rely on anything she says. Sheila was often a terror to her husband Mark, who seemed afraid of her.
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