But, let's see the prisoner. When Sheila was in a bad mood, she berated her new foster daughter for streaks on the windows, dust on the figurines, for crooked bed sheet corners, and floors that had not been waxed properly. "Right," said the Master, "I didn't think of her. The idea of leaving for Mexico had become unbearable, as he was so easy to like and perhaps even easier to love. Jonathan nodded assent. "Why do you laugh?" she asked gravely.
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