\" He paused in awkward silence as they walked outside the red double doors. ’ ‘Now why didn’t I make that connection?’ Gerald asked of the air in a tone of regret. Joe, my foster dad, was a heroin and booze addict. My parents refuse to pay for my college. Want to walk home today? Lucy slipped the paper into her English textbook. It was a cheerful, irresponsible, shamelessly hard-up family in the key of faded green and flattened purple, and the girls went on from the High School to the Fadden Art School and a bright, eventful life of art student dances, Socialist meetings, theatre galleries, talking about work, and even, at intervals, work; and ever and again they drew Ann Veronica from her sound persistent industry into the circle of these experiences.
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