" The two boys, then, emerged upon the landing, and were about to descend the stairs, when the voices of Mr. Are these folks your current foster parents?” “Yes. There stepped forth a tall brown man. In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter. My very sentences stumble and give way. Play foul, and win.
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