Obviously he is still interested. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "a letter, beginning 'dearest Aliva,'—that's your mother's name, Thames. "Hoddy, wake up!" She jerked his head to and fro until the hair stung. “Mary! What’s going on! Why are you crying?!” He commanded an answer in a worried and slightly irritated tone. But then you're an adopted son, and that makes all the difference. My last foster father in Alabama before the Becks was a heavy drug abuser.
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