” She laughed gaily. When they were home, the pair headed for the Big Apple or the warmth of the Beck’s family table. "Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, folding her to his breast. “You are a dear,” she exclaimed affectionately. You are not playing to-night, are you?” “Not to-night,” she answered. 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.
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