Her foster father, Larry, was the hard working son-of-a-bitch type with a disdain for suits. “I doubted my luck, at least. Ann Veronica was one of the few young people—and one must have young people just as one must have flowers—one could ask to a little gathering without the risk of a painful discord. ” He shook his head, and threw open the door of a great dimly-lit apartment on the ground floor. Once or twice she commented upon it, but she knew that it was resultant of his fear of her impending departure.
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