“I think that I know very well what I am saying,” she answered. “We’re here to take your foster daughter down to the station to ask her a few questions sir. The day was unseasonably humid and dark, a thick fog having descended over manicured lawns. Three a week is my allowance, and, if I get short ones, four. He was a good foster dad that had never so much as leered at her, not even once. John did not see her until the last period. She had asked to borrow his pencil out of dire necessity.
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