My foster mother, Janine, wasn’t much fatter. ” He stood before her, his hat in his hand, his head bent, his voice lowered to a convenient pitch. She’s naïve, and yet uncannily shrewd at times, and you daren’t rely on anything she says. The man looked as though he would have liked to deny it, but could not. “Who can tell?” she said. “There’s no one here except me. .
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