‘Stay, Saling!’ The butler halted, looking round enquiringly. The Supper at Mr. Her foster father, Larry, was the hard working son-of-a-bitch type with a disdain for suits. He felt his heart beat faster and faster—his self-restraint slipping away. The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror.
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