My foster mother, Sheila, insists that I go to St. That’s really our choice now, defy—or futility. A crisis had been reached, and she was almost glad it had been reached. It is no problem. Sheila grabbed the gun and laughed hysterically, brandishing the weapon and baying like a bear. She rose from her chair, and began walking up and down the room restlessly. It came to her that to marry any one but Capes was impossible.
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