” “I have been through dozens of foster parents, John. ‘Melusine, if you don’t let go my hand—’ He broke off as she dragged a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve. Kimble was clearly a plain-spoken fellow. Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek. ” “What is there to be feared?” he asked her quietly.
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