Mr. " With no little effort—for the right words had a way of tumbling back out of reach—he marshalled his phrases, and as he uttered them, closed his eyes to lessen the possibility of a break. “What can one do?” asked Ann Veronica. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. It worked. They weren’t very chummy with one another but Sheila 113 didn’t expect much from a foster daughter as long as she worked hard, very hard, to earn her keep. In the floor were set four ring-bolts, about nine feet apart. The Becks were the best foster family that she had ever had. “You, too,” he said abruptly.
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