She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. I worshipped women long before I found any woman I might ever hope to worship. She could feel Martin’s eyes boring into her as she entered the room, her own personal Farhat. " "What do you mean, Sir?" asked Trenchard. They became aware of the waitress standing over them with book and pencil ready for their bill. "Yes," replied Jack. "I wanted you to know.
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