His father was one of my old customers, and I am happy to find his son treading in his steps. Remember ——” Annabel clutched her sister’s arm. There was a Greyhound bus that she was overdue to ride. Supposing that was it; at least, a solution to part of this amazing riddle? Supposing her father had made her assist him in the care of the derelicts solely to fill her with loathing and abhorrence for mankind? "Didn't you despise the men your father brought home—the beachcombers?" "No.
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