Figg?" asked Gay. Marvel. Sorrow lay in the back of his mind as he withdrew, but he put it aside. 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. But her heart kept on sinking. They both listened intently. She could not see clearly.
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