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His name was Peter. Wood. It was time to disappear, no more Becks, no more Spaghetti Nights, no more afternoon kisses in the park with John Diedermayer. But—but how?’ ‘Can you write?’ Gerald asked, digging into one of his capacious pockets and bringing out a leather ring purse. ’ ‘Unfair!’ echoed his junior. Amid this skirmish Jonathan greatly distinguished himself.

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