It was the blood she found that cemented her decision that her foster daughter was a criminal. “It’s fine, Michelle. ’ I said. On a small shelf near the foot of the bed stood a couple of empty phials, a cracked ewer and basin, a brown jug without a handle, a small tin coffee-pot without a spout, a saucer of rouge, a fragment of looking-glass, and a flask, labelled "Rosa Solis. A shaft of searing heat plunged downward.
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