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... n empty table and placing it beside on theirs — he then gracefully gestured for the woman to sit; who, despite obviously hesitating, still obliged and sat on the chair Riley offered her.


"It's Clint Eastiron," the woman nodded as she glanced at the letter, "I was there when he wrote it."


"Well…" Miss Pepondosovich squinted her eyes as she looked at the woman from head to toe, "...You might have just heard us talking earlier."


"The letter is addressed to ...

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