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sunnyklham
Wysłany: Czw 18:25, 17 Lut 2011
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The morning flew by swiftly. Tracy was planning to use her lunchtime to have her hair done and had made an appointment with Larry Stella Botte. He was expensive
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At 1:00, as Tracy was getting into her raincoat, Clarence Desmond summoned her to his office. Desmond was the image of an important executive. If the bank had used television commercials
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"Sit down, Tracy
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"Yes."
"Ah, well. People still have to do their banking." Desmond had used up his small talk. He leaned across his desk. "I understand that you and Charles Stanhope are engaged to be married."
Tracy was surprised. "We haven't even announced it yet. How---?"
Desmond smiled. "Anything the Stanhopes do is news. I'm very happy for you. I assume you'll be returning here to work with us. After the honeymoon, of course. We wouldn't want to lose you. You're one of our most valuable employees."
"Charles and I talked it over
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Desmond smiled, satisfied. Stanhope and Sons was one of the most important investment houses in the financial community, and it would be a nice plum if he could get their exclusive account for his branch. He leaned back in his chair. "When you return from your honeymoon, Tracy
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The Charles Stanhope Seniors lived in an impressive old mansion in Rittenhouse Square. It was a city landmark that Tracy had passed often. And now, she thought
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She was nervous. Her beautiful hairdo had succumbed to the dampness in the air. She had changed dresses four times. Should she dress simply? Formally? She had one Yves Saint Laurent she had scrimped to buy at Wanamaker's. If I wear it, they'll think I'm extravagant. On the other hand, if l dress in one of my sale things from Post Horn, they'll think their son is marrying beneath him. Oh, hell
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, they're going to think that anyway, Tracy decided. She finally settled on a simple gray wool skirt and a white silk blouse and fastened around her neck the slender gold chain her mother had sent her for Christmas.
The door to the mansion was opened by a liveried butler. "Good evening
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, Miss Whitney." The butler knows my name. Is that a good sign? A bad sign? "May I take your coat?" She was dripping on their expensive Persian rug.
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, panicky, Oh, my God. I'm dressed all wrong! ! should have worn the Yves Saint Laurent. As she turned into the library, she felt a run start at the ankle of her pantyhose
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