\" He rose and departed. Her foster father, Larry, was the hard working son-of-a-bitch type with a disdain for suits. She had gladly lowered her eyes as she had been instructed to in front of the fine ladies and lords, as she was more interested in their clothing and fripperies than their faces. ’ He could just see the glare. ” “May I put you in a hansom?” he asked, lifting his stick.
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