"I guessed from your dress and manner, Sir, that you must have been long absent from your own country," said Kneebone; "and now I'm convinced of it, or you wouldn't have asked that question. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. Some day I may forgive you; but not now. It was the blood she found that cemented her decision that her foster daughter was a criminal.
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