“Where am I?” he muttered. Were it not for your voice, I don't think I should know you. But understand me thoroughly: I am offering you this job because my friend wants to help you. Ray Plote would not leave a written explanation. How she had coveted her mother’s beauty and sought to emulate it, if only to please her. He reeled, and crashed to the floor. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. It will not cost you more than six hundred to reach your destination.
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