She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. ch. “I believed that he was the great multi-millionaire. I’d rather die than hear any more fairytales. Shari entered the room in a damp towel, fresh from the shower. She was about to rush to his side, when she saw his clenched hands rise and fall upon the sand repeatedly. “There are a good many Whites in London.
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