“My sister,” she murmured, “is so independent. She gained her room, and slammed her door and locked it as though she feared violence and pursuit. CHAPTER XXVI Spurlock went out on his toes, careful lest the bamboo curtain rattle behind him. As they careened into a parking space, Lucy clung to the upholstery so as not to be thrown against the front seats. He said nothing. Her foster father, Larry, was the hard working son-of-a-bitch type with a disdain for suits. From one window the beach was always visible; from another, the stores. “Why?” “I still love you. "I mean what I say," replied Jonathan. “Gracious!” she exclaimed to herself. .
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