“You see, father,” she said, “it isn’t only this affair of the dance. Her foster parents had attended the concert in their finest clothes, Cathy in a new JC Penney dress, Larry in a suit that was too small. Michelle walked up the concrete porch steps, gesturing to Lucy to do the same. He had brought her here to this place—where her freedom was curtailed even more than at the convent so that a cavalier was very much needed—and only on Monday came again. The McCloskeys had picked Lucy from a bunch of children languishing at the Illinois Christian Home for Children. Still, thereafter she had avoided Morgan's; partly out of fear and partly because of her father's mandate. "Do you think I'm afeard of a beggarly thief-taker and his myrmidons? Not I.
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