He would ask her to come to dinner with him in some little Italian or semiBohemian restaurant in the district toward Soho, or in one of the more stylish and magnificent establishments about Piccadilly Circus, and for the most part she did not care to refuse. She heard the ocean in the distance, waves crashing on the beach, high tide. “We can,” he said, “and we will. And there was another matter. Shari draped herself lazily upon her unmade bed. ” She could practically hear the self-deprecating thoughts racing across his mind, the failed hours of rehearsed lines.
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