She had had to do away with many a leering foster father since she had started frequenting foster homes in the middle of the century. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. Let him not bear the weight of my punishment. And don't neglect my instructions this time. Poe is all right, if you don't mind nightmares. Wood had been my father, as well as yours. “Yes, I remember,” she said.
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