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He looked just like John Wayne in a cowboy movie, his eyes narrow and squinting, except his hair was long, unruly, and jet black. She would just have to show up and hope for the best. During the previous night he had been restless; and in the lonely dragging hours his thoughts had raced in an endless circle—action without progress. A woman’s shoe lay on the threadbare carpeting. ‘Not yet, madame.
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