She looked at him confusedly, his black hair glinting under the dim lights. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. ‘You said she was beautiful. What is it you’re after? Money, I suppose. ” She eyed him scornfully. ’ Jack blinked at her. ’ ‘Are we to infer that he had a choice?’ enquired Gerald. His eyes were fixed upon the tablecloth. I begin to fear I might be purposely go out of the way.
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