Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn. No doubt— because he did not understand you—he thought you had run away with someone. Wood fancied he recognised. "And had you been the worst scoundrel unhung, I'd have seen to it that you had the same care, the same chance. ‘Grace à vous, I am compelled to rescue myself. I presume that you have been living alone?” She sighed gently.
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