Please tell me what your terms are. Mike was draped over the laminate kitchen counter, on the phone as usual. ‘We mean you no harm,’ he said reassuringly. Just an idea of mine. ‘I’ll make you an offer. For heaven’s sake, give him some Madeira or something, Gerald! Anything to calm him down. ‘I doubt very much whether they are yours at all. For hats that fail and hats that flare; Toppers their universal wear; A man scores always, everywhere. F.
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