. . She barely heard a word that Martin or Brown said, until Martin’s voice chimed. . This laughter released something that had been striving for expression—her own natural buoyancy. " "You can give me a little of his history, can't you? Something about his people?" "Oh, his folks were all right. “I wonder if I’ve been properly brought up. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. Sheppard. The decision had been sound.
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