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“You!” said Ann Veronica. “Did your foster dads ever try to molest you?” “Of course they did, John. She laid her hand upon his arm. In spite of God and wasps and her father, she had stolen plums; and once because of discovered misdeeds, and once because she had realized that her mother was dead, she had lain on her face in the unmown grass, beneath the elmtrees that came beyond the vegetables, and poured out her soul in weeping. ’ The couple on the sofa stared at her blankly.
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