‘Went to the dogs, did Jarvis, after Mary died. He worked afternoons, when everybody else went to sleep; he worked at night under a heat-giving light, with insects buzzing and dropping about, with a blue haze of tobacco smoke that tried to get out and could not. He closed the door. Most of all she enjoyed the gentle gratitude of her foster family members, even the teasing 7 of Mike, her foster brother, who liked to play food critic to give her a hard time. If he keeps his word, I'll keep mine. A neighbor stopped by as the day wore on, causing her to duck and cower as he rang the doorbell over and over. I would not think so of you, Marthe.
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