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He was not, it seemed, the proper stipendiary at all, and there had been some demur to his jurisdiction that had ruffled him. “I mean it. 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. It penetrated the skin; benumbed the flesh; paralysed the faculties. ‘Moi, je vais vous tuer!’ ‘I don’t think so,’ Gerald said through his teeth.
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