Despite her busy work schedule, Sheila had always been a social person, a talker, a joiner of neighborhood groups, a town council member, a PTA worker, and a thrower of neighborhood coffee klatches. The winters were bitter here, they could have just as easily been frozen off. He had almost forced himself upon her one night after a particularly bloody raid of a thatched cottage. It had been a trying day. A sprinkling of callow youths, and a couple of pronounced young Jews, who were talking loudly together in some unintelligible jargon of the City. Amongst other things, he had just brought down an old laced bavaroy, a species of surtout much worn at the period. He had sufficient strength to wait upon himself.
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