E. She thought of leaving the Beck house less and less these days, though the suitcase remained packed underneath her creaky bed. But for the next few days he avoided Cheveney like the plague. He did not so much cut into this conversation as loom over it, for he was a tall, if rather studiously stooping, man. There was no past, no future, only this exhilarating present. “Do all foster kids have the instinct?” Michelle asked naively.
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