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... e hadn’t finished his cigar, gray-white smoke curling and stretching through the room. Cillian Grant stopped at the fringe of the dissipating haze; once he’d halted, he took a step back.
Mr. Grant noticed his movement, stubbed out the cigar. "I remember you used to smoke, too."
"As you said, that was before."
Mr. Grant waved away the smoke and stood to open a window. "When you’re under a lot of pressure, it’s hard to quit—your mother kept after me for years before I could ...
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