What about your real mother? Wasn’t she also a foster child? Michelle told me that she was suspected of murder, some people named McFerrin, McDougal. He had not to wait long. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth. Accidentally raising his eyes, he saw that he was perceived by the family from Dollis Hill, and that he was an object of the deepest interest to them. He was continually dramatizing the future, anticipating the singular role he had elected to play. That’s probably true. To simplify matters, he carried a coloured paper lantern upon which his license number was painted in Arabic numerals. Everybody breathed a collective sigh of relief in the neighborhood, no one wanted to see how those kids would grow up. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. He was a business man, pure and simple, his eyes were fastened always upon the practical side of life.
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