Sheppard, faintly. As it is, I'm not sorry for the blunder. You know all this stuff is insured. But I will go. Joe, my foster dad, was a heroin and booze addict. He was always tenderly courteous; he answered her ordinary questions readily and her extraordinary ones patiently; he always rose when she entered or left the room. She tried to be casual. He was now a sophomore at Lincoln, Lucy a Junior, and Shari a Senior. She looked at him mournfully.
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