She wore a black satin dress, a little shiny at the seams, a purposeless bow of white tulle at the back of her neck, and a huge chatelaine. Sheila decided to do a little laundry one day, clothes that were in Lucy’s hamper, a dirty clothes bin that Lucy had insisted that she have for herself separate from the family one. Her fingers clutched the side of the door as though to steady herself. The door leading to the front of the house was stealthily opening. She feasted reluctantly, partly out of wonder at the new function of her often elongated canines.
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