Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn. "Certain. She seized the key, and he grasped her hand and squeezed it roughly and painfully between the handle and the ward as she tried to turn it. She opened this and scrambled out—a thing she had not done for five long years of adolescence— upon the leaded space above the built-out bath-room on the first floor.
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