” As the long, solitary days wore on, Ann Veronica found a number of definite attitudes and conclusions in her mind. ‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness. His countenance was almost as white and rigid as that of the corpse by his side. She had had to do away with many a leering foster father since she had started frequenting foster homes in the middle of the century. The young man's imagination suddenly pictured the man as a rock, loosed from its ancient bed, crumbling as it fell.
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