“I don’t see, Mollie,” he remarked, taking a cigar from the box on the table as his sister and daughter rose, “why you and Vee shouldn’t discuss this little affair —whatever it is—without bothering me. ” Lucy sat patiently as she was improved. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. I got three pounds, and there’s three on my watch. Joe, my foster dad, was a heroin and booze addict.
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