Spurlock lay with his head on his arms, asleep. She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. Joe, my foster dad, was a heroin and booze addict. Whenever they stepped from the chairs, he stepped down. That boy was the carpenter's apprentice, Jack Sheppard. Sheppard's time it was even more beautiful than at present, when the hand of improvement has proceeded a little too rashly with alterations and repairs.
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