The Last Scholar
The piano player in the basement of the Carlyle Hotel was drinking gin from a teacup and playing Gershwin when Julian Ashford III walked in, still wearing his tuxedo from the party upstairs, his face pale and his eyes bright with an idea he could not contain. Julian was twenty-eight, an Ashford of Manhattan, which meant he had money he did not want and an education he did not know what to do...
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