” She massaged him. ” “I have been through dozens of foster parents, John. . " There was a brief, breathless pause. A creature of convenience, she could have cared less if her children were carried away by drunkards on the street. She met his eyes for a moment, and could not interpret their expression. But for him she might have been alive and happy. "That I can't say. Glad to get back, I’m sure,” he said briskly. “MY DEAR FATHER,” she wrote,—“I have been thinking hard about everything since I was sent to this prison.
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