It was time to disappear, no more Becks, no more Spaghetti Nights, no more afternoon kisses in the park with John Diedermayer. “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. Gina, the eleven year old, just couldn’t take it and she ran away. “I will not be drawn into a conversation with Mr.
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