He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. She realized that he was the sort of man one does not think much about at dinners. “I suppose you’re like the rest of them. “Did your foster dads ever try to molest you?” “Of course they did, John. ” “Then perhaps,” she answered, with a new coldness in her tone, “perhaps I really do not care.
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