Scott Pizio

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“Can’t drink that now,” he said, and looked round for help. “Mr. Carling, would you have a cup of coffee?” “I could use it, sir.” Carling had been on the chilly bridge for two whole hours. He poured himself a cup and added cream and sugar to reveal himself as the sort of man he was. “Thank you, sir,” said Carling, sipping.
The Good Shepherd
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