Lucy felt the hairs on her neck rise. “—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. So I set out to find you, even if it cost ten times sixteen thousand. Joe, my foster dad, was a heroin and booze addict. Having disposed of his steed and swallowed a glass of brandy, without taking any other refreshment, he threw himself on a couch, where he sank at once into a heavy slumber.
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