He grabbed her wrist and prised the weapon from her fingers, ignoring her other hand that clawed at his to try to retain the trophy. He would sit in his inner office and compose conversations with her, penetrating, illuminating, and nearly conclusive—conversations that never proved to be of the slightest use at all with her when he met her face to face. He was a business man, pure and simple, his eyes were fastened always upon the practical side of life. . . “Why shouldn’t one face the facts of one’s self?” She stood up. Thanks. He did not move.
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