You're jest about the very woman I'm looking for, miss. Lithe—that's what I call you. I kin put you in the way of making your pile, I kin. This is a bonâ-fide offer. No flies on my business!
Lubricious bank managers and building society chairmen who have never danced before throw off their jackets, confess to barren lives and worship Rick the giver of their sun and rain.
which provided ten to twenty new francs per person on a monthly basis as well as fifteen new francs to Jews toward the kosher tax, paid to the city for the purchase of kosher meat.
Why don't you MYOB? My marital status is no concern of yours.
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