Joe, my foster dad, was a heroin and booze addict. “A young man comes into life asking how best he may place himself,” Ramage had said; “a woman comes into life thinking instinctively how best she may give herself. "I'll see him fettered myself. " "Poor soul!" ejaculated her son. He had hurt her. ” She smiled grimly at the recollection of that lunch—tea and roll at a cheap café.
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