Accounts were now always where he could put his hand on them. I was sure you could not have the heart to slay a child—an innocent child. Her sensitive ears could hear her foster mother snoring in front of the television. He hugged her when he saw her in the hallway. She had a compartment to herself in the train from London to Morningside Park, and she sat with both her feet on the seat in an attitude that would certainly have distressed her mother to see, and horrified her grandmother beyond measure; she sat with her knees up to her chin and her hands clasped before them, and she was so lost in thought that she discovered with a start, from a lettered lamp, that she was at Morningside Park, and thought she was moving out of the station, whereas she was only moving in.
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