It was the girl. He would pick a random member of the ever-shifting household for the sake of example. The name of this damsel was Edgeworth Bess; and, as her fascinations will not, perhaps, be found to be without some influence upon the future fortunes of her boyish admirer, we have thought it worth while to be thus particular in describing them. “Um, I really shouldn’t tell you this, but he said. “Who is there to care and—John. There he was, standing with a group of men who she presumed to be the other richest men in the world. She opened the door with a neon colored key. Thank him, not me, man. He was helpful, but gravely dubious. His name is John. CHAPTER XIX.
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