Her foster father, Larry, was the hard working son-of-a-bitch type with a disdain for suits. " He opened his eyes again. Opening a pair of large black eyes, the child fixed them for an instant upon Wood, and then, alarmed by the light, uttered a low and melancholy cry, which, however, was speedily stilled by the caresses of his mother, towards whom he extended his tiny arms, as if imploring protection. A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home. ’ ‘Was it?’ Her lips twitched. " Prudence shrugged. Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood upon the piano. He was standing by, rating her ladyship,—who can scarcely stir from the sofa,—while I was packing up her jewels in the case, and I observed that she tried to hide a small casket from him. ’ Lucilla Froxfield laughed gaily. .
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