He was a muscular man. He has aface like a weasel with thick eyebrows and thin moustache."What?" He said.I didn't answer as I tried to compose myself...into what kind manners thereal Maddy Jones would assume to her boyfriend given the currentsituation."I'll call you later, Bro" he croaked to the person on the other line.He switched off the phone and put it in his pocket. "I thought youdon't wanna see my face again. Said I'm a douche." His words wereslurred.I didn't know what came across my mind. What I did discern, however, was how articulate he was, something I had never noticed during our brief former encounters and telephone conversations. He had a lovely deep resonance to his voice and spoke with a transatlantic accent. He was a stickler for proper grammar, as I would come to learn.The hotel was of Edwardian architecture, as were all the furnishings, as I got told. The triple storey hotel was exquisite. As we passed by the hotel, another much smaller and far less grand building. More

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