The professor began, somber, lest we forget, in tone alone. Somehow the visage prepared was elsewhere.
Perhaps history merely repeats itself on endless loop, said Mon Cherie into her café au lait.
He called it café au lair as he felt lured in by these French girls and resuscitated by American breath.
There was something to this American girl, in Mont St Michel, but before he could get answers, she simply took her questions and left, under cover of darkness or right when the burnt umbra took over the glow that sparks a few minutes before the sun then appears, in intermittent glory.
But. No one notices.
Not even Irene Dunsford, heiress to the irrelevant luxury brand that Morris Jenkinsen now owned. There was no telling how Alex would have to whore herself out this time, but if there were such a thing as peak years in her unremitting companion from the conglomerate – coopted carefully by intelligence magnets.
Russian-owned group of companies has agreed to pay nearly $6 million to settle U.S. civil allegations that the firms laundered proceeds of a $230 million tax fraud, ending a politically charged case days before it was set to go to trial…
Regales with requisite
Just enough to leave a dither
A shillyshally shelacking
In short, a discrepancy
He meant to fix