It began in the eyes and spread to the lips: warm, embracing, even fatherly. "This your regular business?" "For the present. ‘Signed by a priest at Le Havre, so it must be true. “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. ” She turned and fitted the latchkey into the door.
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