I’m sorry. ” John’s father added, “I came home to find Carolyn in a panic and fire trucks outside my son’s bedroom. ‘I want a word with you, my lad. You speak as one injured—as though I had been the one to take your name—as though you had been the one to make sacrifices. I’m the sort of dog, if you turn it out of the room it lies down on the mat at the door. Her father was holding her waist, smiling.
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