I don't know; I really don't know," she found herself repeating. Her sensitive ears could hear her foster mother snoring in front of the television. Annabel had spoken calmly enough and steadily, but his brain refused at first to accept the full meaning of her words. But pathologically, he is still on the edge. If I do not look after her, she has no one. “I suppose there’s no way of getting a decent income—independently. No one spoke to her.
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