‘You were supposed to be nursing him,’ Martha grumbled, ‘and helping him convalesce. “Too greasy for me. ‘She wormed it out of me, the little fiend. Ruth was something to study for future copy; she was almost unbelievable. ” “No,” said Ann Veronica, offhandedly. Are these folks your current foster parents?” “Yes. But he was destined to have every tide of feeling awakened—every wound opened. ” And to them were presently added a roguish-looking young man, with reddish hair, an orange tie, and a fluffy tweed suit, and others who, in Ann Veronica’s memory, in spite of her efforts to recall details, remained obstinately just “others.
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