. The discussion wandered, and was punctuated with bread and butter. They pressed more insistently, forcing her lips open. You wouldn't rob Mr. Coffee à la Turque wasn't so bad; but a guy couldn't soak his breakfast toast in it. “But your sister?” he asked. She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years. Melusine whirled. She packed her things, then ran a mile to Julian’s apartment. But this time she wanted nothing for herself: she wanted something for Hoddy—success.
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