“Yeah,” Shari nodded enthusiastically. From head to foot he was attired in the fashionable garb of the young man of the moment. ‘You cannot read my mind at all, monsieur. But I sent him the longest way about. At luncheon, on the third day, a thick-set man with a blue jaw smiled across his table at her. Then he sat down again in a chair and said that people who wrote novels ought to be strung up.
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