Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. ‘Now then,’ said the captain sternly, ‘I’m not going to ask you what you’re doing here. ’ ‘Well, let us leave your name for the present. The mother, Cathy Beck, was as patient and as charitable of an individual that Lucy had ever known, a big kindly Polish-American woman with the heart of an angel. “Some day,” she answered.
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