“Why not?” “Because you are mine. ” She said warmly. Partly, from your confessor; partly, from other sources. Her foster father, Larry, was the hard working son-of-a-bitch type with a disdain for suits. For her it was sufficient to know that somebody wanted her, that never again would she be alone, that always this boy with the dreams would be depending upon her. She was quite unconcerned. Cathy gave her a bear hug and patted her severe 252 hairdo.
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