Poor old Tom. You're the hero of the hour. There had been this nonsense in the papers, but both Mrand Mrs Ford had assured them that they were simply sillyrumours and there was absolutely no way they would everdream of selling Bartles. 'Of course.
I'd appreciate it if you didget back. 'She gave Tom a dazzling smile and left the restaurant; themen slowly followed her. She lookedas good on the golf course, which she claimed was hernatural habitat, as she did lunching at Caprice, or on thefloor at a charity ball. Let you know -- well, I suppose itdoesn't matter.
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