"As I said before,
I have little reliance upon professions of gratitude. When Sheila was in a bad mood, she berated her new
foster daughter for streaks on the windows, dust on the
figurines, for crooked bed sheet corners, and floors that
had not been waxed properly. Day after day she pounded
him with curses, saying that her mother looked down on
him from Heaven and sent a curse, to which he laughed. One never
knew when it would be necessary to resume her disguise. She thought of an old
abandoned barn that she could inhabit further downriver,
but shrugged off the idea in disdain. ”
“Well, I have two,” said Mr. *** START: FULL LICENSE ***
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