Everett’s gaze dropped to the papers in his hand. ‘I am not a murderer. The sword, Jacques. It saved me the bother of being studied. The psychic vibration of him thickened the air of the room as if he were already inside. “What a hypocrite you are. In the discussion there was the oddest mixture of things that were personal and petty with an idealist devotion that was fine beyond dispute.
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