’ ‘Who was to know if you would find your place?’ countered Martha. She felt a lump rise in her throat, for she had come to love living in America. How she hated talking of the man who was responsible for her being brought into the world. He had let go his name so easily as that! What was the name she had given? Ruth something; he could not remember. “If I do,” he said. “The point is we’re not toys, toys isn’t the word; we’re litter. " "I'm sorry.
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