They slow danced to a Bon Jovi ballad. The little pucker in her brows became more perceptible. Below was an uninspiring street, a thoroughfare of boarding-houses and apartments. ‘You said?’ ‘Mrs Sindlesham, your great-aunt, miss. They seem to spend their time yawning and inspecting their neighbour’s dresses through those hateful glasses. And, decently as he could, McClintock was giving the man the boot. “We can be alone?” She inquired.
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