Chapter 1105: Red Flag Plot: Peter's Quiet Rage
Chapter 1105: Red Flag Plot: Peter’s Quiet Rage
The closet smelled of warm skin and expensive perfume, and the soft white floor under my back was holding the weight me and my wife with the unbothered competence of architecture that had been built for exactly this kind of morning-after reckoning.
ARIA’s design philosophy, in three words: keep the king happy.
The lighting had dimmed itself another shade ten minutes into the proceedings, switched the holographic styling field to off about four minutes after that, and was now running an ambient warm-gold program along the underside of the suit racks that was, frankly, more thoughtful than half the hotels I’d ever booked on this sad little planet.
The mirror at the end of the island was respectfully dark.
Even the ventilation had slowed its rhythm to match Anastasia’s breathing, which was a little detail I noticed because I was a man who noticed details, and because it was exactly the kind of small unbidden flex an architecture-tier goddess threw in when she wanted me to know she was paying attention.
Thanks, ARIA.
Anastasia was draped across my chest in the dignified collapse like she had won what she came in for and was now resting on the trophy. Dark hair across my ribs. One leg hooked over my thigh. Her cheek on my pectoral.
The bite mark on my left shoulder was hers, signed in teeth, the small clean half-moon she always left as a Russian standard receipt—proof of attendance, proof of satisfaction, proof of ownership.
I stared at the ceiling.
She wasn’t speaking.
That was the first red flag.
Anastasia post-coital was a woman with two settings. Smug, and quiet.
Smug meant she’d come into the closet wanting to settle a score from another room, and she’d settled it, and now she was going to lie on me and grin at the ceiling for forty minutes before getting up to start her day.
Quiet meant she’d come into the closet carrying something, and the morning we’d just had had been her deciding whether to give it to me before Paris.
Today was quiet.
Quiet was the bad one and meant my morning was about to develop a plot.
I waited.
I don’t prompt Anastasia because gives information at the speed Anastasia chooses and poking her on the timeline of a delivery is the verbal equivalent of attempting to renegotiate the cost of a Hermès bag with the salesperson—it doesn’t get you the bag faster, and now they remember you.
I closed my eyes. Felt her breath against my ribs. Let her have the silence she’d earned.
Three full minutes.
She lifted her face.
“Peter.”
“Mm.”
“Be Peter for the next part.”
“…I am Peter.”
“Be him more. I am about to tell you something you do not want to hear in your other voice.”
I opened my eyes.
She was looking at me grey to mine, no smile, no smirk, no Anastasia gloss on the surface of her face—just her, naked, propped on one elbow on my chest, hair spilling forward, the faintest pink mark on her own collarbone where my mouth had been an hour ago.
I turned into my Peter Carter Form, and let the Eros body underneath the shell do what it always did when something serious was about to land—went very still, lowered the public temperature of the man around it by several degrees, and quietly opened ARIA’s threat-intelligence wing in the back of my skull, because whatever my wife was about to say, my goddess was going to want to hear it the same instant I did.
Taboo, in my head, made the small alert sound she made when she’d already clocked an incoming weather system. [She like she’s about telling the truth, Master. I am curios]
Dark Seduction, lower, slower: [the woman is afraid of giving this to you, and she is giving it anyway.]
I didn’t answer them.
“All right.”
Anastasia took a breath.
“A woman named Senithe came to Moscow eleven days ago.”
There are roughly four sentences a man in my position does not want to hear at six-fifty in the morning, and Senithe came to Moscow eleven days ago was three of them at once.
Senithe.
In my wife’s city.
Eleven days ago.
You couldn’t have given me worse news with a personalised envelope.
I kept my face nueatral.
“In Moscow.”
“In my Moscow, when I went back to visit my ancetral home.”
I knew her home and she’s gone back home there before she came back… Anastasia had mentioned the ancestral home the way she mentioned a pair of shoes she was not prepared to share—once, at a distance, with the implication that asking again would be impolite.
I had not asked again. The number of people who knew where her parent’s home was, evidently, did not include me… I knew the loaction but had never visited there. I was not going to be petty about that this morning.
Other mornings, sure. Today, it could wait.
“Did she announce herself.”
“She waited for me. She was sitting in my home lab when I came home from the diner with my parents. She was simply there, in my chair, with a glass of my best vodka she had poured for herself, watching the snow.”
“How did you know it was her.”
“Because I did not pour the vodka, Peter, and the bottle in question lives in a vault behind a Rothko that does not, if I have not personally opened it, open.”
I let that sit.
A goddess walked through a wall. Helped herself to my wife’s private vodka. From a vault behind a Rothko. And then waited in my wife’s chair for my wife to come home from the diner so they could have a conversation about the snow.
That was a calling card.
A calligraphy-invitation-to-your-own-funeral calling card. Beautifully made. Personalised. Hand-delivered.
THE AUDACITY OF THEM!
“What did she want,” I said.
“Conversation.”
“Anastasia.”
“Conversation, Peter. She did not ask me for anything. She did not threaten or propose anything… I did not even know the fuck she was until recently when I came back. She drank the vodka, complimented the snow, told me four things about my own grandfather I did not know—and one thing about my mother I have been assuming was a private family matter for twenty years—and then she rose, set the empty glass on the table, and walked out.”
I knew ARIA knew about this… not everyone knew of Senithe, she must’ve told Anastasia afterwards. But hadn’t told me Senithe had confronted my woman!
“Through a wall I guess?”
“Politely.”
Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!
“㛫䅩㼪䳐㯜㼪䳐䱐㼪㣚”
老盧櫓櫓”㷨䨆䯖㱎䯖擄盧 盧蘆䱐䳐爐蘆 㼪 㝅㼪䱐䅩㯜 䳐䨆䱐䭠䭠䯖㱎 䱐䅩 㯜䨆䯖 㗌㼪㚳㚳 䅩䏬㗌㣚 䟦 䨆㼪㢯䯖 䅩䏬㯜 䨆㼪䕁 䱐㯜 㱎䯖䦎㚳㼪㧢䯖䕁㣚 䟦 㼪䭠 㮎䯖䯖䦎䱐䅩䮏 䱐㯜 㼪䳐 㼪 䳐䏬䆟㢯䯖䅩䱐㱎㣚”
䟦 㼪㚳䭠䏬䳐㯜 㚳㼪䆟䮏䨆䯖䕁 䕁䯖䳐䦎䱐㯜䯖 㯜䨆䯖 㼪䅩䮏䯖㱎䢒
㷨䨆㼪㯜 㗌㼪䳐 䯖䶣㼪㧢㯜㚳䅑 㗌䨆㼪㯜 㛫䅩㼪䳐㯜㼪䳐䱐㼪 㗌䏬䆟㚳䕁 䕁䏬㣚 㷨䨆䯖 㗌㼪㚳㚳 㼪 䮏䏬䕁䕁䯖䳐䳐 㗌㼪㚳㮎䯖䕁 㯜䨆㱎䏬䆟䮏䨆 䱐䳐 䅩䏬㗌 䕁é㧢䏬㱎㣚 䨯䏬䆟 䕁䏬䅩’㯜 㝅䱐䶣 䱐㯜㣚
䨯䏬䆟 䨆㼪䅩䮏 㼪 䳐䭠㼪㚳㚳 䐭㱎㼪䳐䳐 䦎㚳㼪䪱䆟䯖 䅩䯖䶣㯜 㯜䏬 䱐㯜 㼪䅩䕁 䳐㯜㼪㱎㯜 㯜䯖㚳㚳䱐䅩䮏 䮏䆟䯖䳐㯜䳐 䱐㯜’䳐 㼪 䮏䱐㝅㯜㣚
“㛫䅩䕁 㯜䨆䯖 㝅䏬䆟㱎 㯜䨆䱐䅩䮏䳐 㼪䐭䏬䆟㯜 䅑䏬䆟㱎 䮏㱎㼪䅩䕁㝅㼪㯜䨆䯖㱎㣚”
“䯖㪃䯖㱎
䯖㯜㱎䏬”㣚㱎㧢㧢
“㛫䅩䕁 㯜䨆䯖 䏬䅩䯖 㯜䨆䱐䅩䮏 㼪䐭䏬䆟㯜 䅑䏬䆟㱎 䭠䏬㯜䨆䯖㱎㣚”
“㪃㼪䳐 㧢䏬㱎㱎䯖㧢㯜㣚”
䅩”㛫䕁
㯜䯖䨆
䳐䮏䭠䯖㣚”䳐䯖㼪
㺼䨆䯖 䨆䯖㚳䕁 䭠䅑 䯖䅑䯖䳐㣚
“㪃㼪䳐 㯜䨆㼪㯜 䳐䨆䯖 㮎䅩䏬㗌䳐 䯖䶣㼪㧢㯜㚳䅑 㗌䨆䯖㱎䯖 䟦 㼪䭠 䦎䏬䳐䱐㯜䱐䏬䅩䯖䕁 䱐䅩 䅑䏬䆟㱎 㚳䱐㝅䯖㣚 㷨䨆㼪㯜 䳐䨆䯖 㮎䅩䏬㗌䳐 㯜䨆䯖 䳐䯖䪱䆟䯖䅩㧢䯖 䏬㝅 䨆䏬㗌 䟦 㧢㼪䭠䯖 㯜䏬 䐭䯖 䨆䯖㱎䯖㣚 㷨䨆㼪㯜 䳐䨆䯖 㮎䅩䏬㗌䳐 㗌䨆㼪㯜 䟦 䮏㼪㢯䯖 䆟䦎 㯜䏬 䐭䯖 䨆䯖㱎䯖䓀 㼪䅩䕁 㗌䨆㼪㯜 䟦 䨆㼪㢯䯖 䅩䏬㯜 䅑䯖㯜 䮏䱐㢯䯖䅩 䅑䏬䆟䓀 㼪䅩䕁 㗌䨆㼪㯜 䟦 㼪䭠 䳐㯜䱐㚳㚳 䨆䏬㚳䕁䱐䅩䮏 䐭㼪㧢㮎㣚”
䱐䳐㯜
㚳䕁䨆䯖
㚳㧢䯖䳐䏬㯜
䯖䨆㷨
㣚㼪㱎䐭䨆䯖㯜
“㪃䨆㼪㯜 䅑䏬䆟 䨆㼪㢯䯖 䅩䏬㯜 䅑䯖㯜 䮏䱐㢯䯖䅩 䭠䯖㣚”
“䨯䯖䳐㣚”
“䳐㼪㯜㼪䅩㛫”䱐㼪䳐㣚
“䟦 㼪䭠 䮏䱐㢯䱐䅩䮏 䱐㯜 㯜䏬 䅑䏬䆟 䅩䏬㗌㣚”
“㪃䨆䅑 䅩䏬㗌㣚”
“䫤䯖㧢㼪䆟䳐䯖 㯜䨆㼪㯜 㺼䯖䅩䱐㯜䨆䯖 㮎䅩䏬㗌䳐 䱐㯜䓀 䖑䯖㯜䯖㱎䓀 㼪䅩䕁 䟦 㗌䱐㚳㚳 䅩䏬㯜 㚳䯖㯜 䨆䯖㱎 䨆䏬㚳䕁 㚳䯖㢯䯖㱎㼪䮏䯖 䏬㢯䯖㱎 䆟䳐 㯜䨆㼪㯜 䟦 䨆㼪㢯䯖 䅩䏬㯜 㝅䱐㱎䳐㯜 㚳㼪䱐䕁 䱐䅩 䅑䏬䆟㱎 䨆㼪䅩䕁 䭠䅑䳐䯖㚳㝅㣚”
䟦 䳐㼪㯜 䆟䦎 㼪䅩䕁 䳐䨆䯖 䳐㚳䱐䕁 䏬㝅㝅 䭠䅑 㧢䨆䯖䳐㯜 䱐䅩 䏬䅩䯖 㚳䏬䅩䮏 䆟䅩䨆䆟㱎㱎䱐䯖䕁 䭠䏬㯜䱐䏬䅩 㼪䅩䕁 㱎䯖㼪㱎㱎㼪䅩䮏䯖䕁 䨆䯖㱎䳐䯖㚳㝅 䐭䯖䳐䱐䕁䯖 䭠䯖 䏬䅩 㯜䨆䯖 㝅㚳䏬䏬㱎 㗌䱐㯜䨆 䏬䅩䯖 㮎䅩䯖䯖 㝅䏬㚳䕁䯖䕁 䆟䅩䕁䯖㱎 䨆䯖㱎 㼪䅩䕁 䏬䅩䯖 䨆㼪䅩䕁 㝅㚳㼪㯜 䏬䅩 䭠䅑 㯜䨆䱐䮏䨆䓀 㯜䨆䯖 㗌㼪䅑 䳐䨆䯖 㼪䅩㧢䨆䏬㱎䯖䕁 䨆䯖㱎䳐䯖㚳㝅 㯜䏬 䭠䯖 㗌䨆䯖䅩䯖㢯䯖㱎 㯜䨆䯖 㧢䏬䅩㢯䯖㱎䳐㼪㯜䱐䏬䅩 㗌㼪䳐 㼪䐭䏬䆟㯜 㯜䏬 㱎䯖䪱䆟䱐㱎䯖 䨆䯖㱎 㯜䏬 䐭䯖 㝅䆟㚳㚳䅑 㯜㱎䆟㯜䨆㝅䆟㚳㣚 㥽䯖㱎 䮏㱎䯖䅑 䯖䅑䯖䳐 䕁䱐䕁 䅩䏬㯜 㚳䯖㼪㢯䯖 䭠䅑 㝅㼪㧢䯖㣚
㷨䨆䯖 䳐䨆㼪㮎䯖 㼪㯜 㯜䨆䯖 䐭䏬㯜㯜䏬䭠 䏬㝅 䨆䯖㱎 㧢䏬䭠䦎䏬䳐䆟㱎䯖 㗌㼪䳐—䟦 㗌䏬䆟㚳䕁 䨆㼪㢯䯖 䭠䱐䳐䳐䯖䕁 䱐㯜䓀 䳐䱐䶣 䭠䏬䅩㯜䨆䳐 㼪䮏䏬㣚 䟦 䕁䱐䕁 䅩䏬㯜 䭠䱐䳐䳐 䱐㯜 䅩䏬㗌㣚
“㷨㼪㚳㮎㣚”
㺼䨆䯖 䕁䱐䕁㣚
㺼䨆䯖 䕁䱐䕁㣚
“㦛䅑 㝅㼪䭠䱐㚳䅑—㗌䨆㼪㯜 䱐䳐 㚳䯖㝅㯜 䏬㝅 䭠䅑 㝅㼪䭠䱐㚳䅑䓀 㧣䛉䘕䓀 㯜䨆䯖 䦎㼪㱎㯜 㯜䨆㼪㯜 䕁䱐䕁 䅩䏬㯜 䕁䱐䯖 䱐䅩 㼪 䐭㼪䳐䯖䭠䯖䅩㯜 䱐䅩 䨯䯖㮎㼪㯜䯖㱎䱐䅩䐭䆟㱎䮏 䱐䅩 䢌㘿䢌㒣—㱎䆟䅩䳐 㯜䨆㱎䯖䯖 䱐䅩㯜䯖㚳㚳䱐䮏䯖䅩㧢䯖 㼪䳐䳐䯖㯜䳐 䱐䅩䳐䱐䕁䯖 㯜䨆䯖 㑭䆟㱎䏬䦎䯖㼪䅩 䱐䅩䕁䆟䳐㯜㱎䱐㼪㚳 䳐䦎䱐䅩䯖 㯜䨆㼪㯜 䅩䏬䐭䏬䕁䅑 䏬䆟㯜䳐䱐䕁䯖 㯜䨆䯖 㝅㼪䭠䱐㚳䅑 䱐䳐 䳐䆟䦎䦎䏬䳐䯖䕁 㯜䏬 㮎䅩䏬㗌 䯖䶣䱐䳐㯜㣚 䟦䅩䨆䯖㱎䱐㯜䯖䕁 㼪䅩䕁 㷨䨆㱎䯖䯖 䮏䯖䅩䯖㱎㼪㯜䱐䏬䅩䳐 䏬㚳䕁㣚 㷨䨆䯖 㝅䱐㱎䳐㯜 䮏䯖䅩䯖㱎㼪㯜䱐䏬䅩 䐭䆟䱐㚳㯜 㯜䨆䯖䭠 䱐䅩 䯖䶣䱐㚳䯖䓀 䐭䯖㧢㼪䆟䳐䯖 䏬㝅 㯜䨆䯖 䐭㼪䳐䯖䭠䯖䅩㯜㣚 㷨䨆䯖 䳐䯖㧢䏬䅩䕁 䮏䯖䅩䯖㱎㼪㯜䱐䏬䅩 䯖䶣䦎㼪䅩䕁䯖䕁 㯜䨆䯖䭠 䪱䆟䱐䯖㯜㚳䅑䓀 䱐䅩 㯜䨆㱎䯖䯖 䕁䱐㝅㝅䯖㱎䯖䅩㯜 㑭䆟㱎䏬䦎䯖㼪䅩 㧢㼪䦎䱐㯜㼪㚳䳐䓀 䆟䅩䕁䯖㱎 㯜䨆㱎䯖䯖 䕁䱐㝅㝅䯖㱎䯖䅩㯜 䳐䆟㱎䅩㼪䭠䯖䳐 㯜䨆㼪㯜 㗌䯖㱎䯖 䅩䏬㯜 䏬䆟㱎䳐㣚
“㷨䨆䯖 㯜䨆䱐㱎䕁 䮏䯖䅩䯖㱎㼪㯜䱐䏬䅩—䭠䯖—䨆㼪䳐 䏬䅩㚳䅑 䯖㢯䯖㱎 䨆㼪䕁 㯜䏬 䭠㼪䱐䅩㯜㼪䱐䅩 㯜䨆䯖䭠 䆟䅩㯜䱐㚳 䟦 䮏䯖㯜 㯜䏬 㱎䆟䅩 㯜䨆䏬䳐䯖 㼪䳐䳐䯖㯜 㼪㝅㯜䯖㱎 䭠䅑 䦎㼪㱎䯖䅩㯜䳐 䨆㼪䅩䕁 㯜䨆䯖䭠 䏬㢯䯖㱎㣚
“㷨䨆䯖䅑 㼪㱎䯖 䏬㝅㝅 㯜䨆䯖 䐭䏬䏬㮎䳐 㼪䅩䕁 䅩䏬㯜 㼪㚳䱐䮏䅩䯖䕁 㗌䱐㯜䨆 㼪䅩䅑 䳐㯜㼪㯜䯖䓀 䐭䯖㧢㼪䆟䳐䯖 䯖㢯䯖㱎䅑 䳐㯜㼪㯜䯖 䏬䅩 㯜䨆䱐䳐 㧢䏬䅩㯜䱐䅩䯖䅩㯜 䱐䅩 㯜䨆䯖 㚳㼪䳐㯜 㧢䯖䅩㯜䆟㱎䅑 䨆㼪䳐䓀 㼪㯜 䏬䅩䯖 䦎䏬䱐䅩㯜 䏬㱎 㼪䅩䏬㯜䨆䯖㱎䓀 䐭䯖䯖䅩 㯜䨆䯖 䳐㯜㼪㯜䯖 㯜䨆㼪㯜 㗌㼪䅩㯜䯖䕁 䭠䅑 㚳䱐䅩䯖 䕁䯖㼪䕁㣚 㪃䯖 䆟䳐䯖 㯜䨆䯖䭠 㝅䏬㱎 㯜㗌䏬 㯜䨆䱐䅩䮏䳐㣚 㗱䅩䏬㗌䱐䅩䮏 㗌䨆䱐㧢䨆 䏬㝅 䏬䆟㱎 䦎㼪㱎㯜䅩䯖㱎䳐 䱐䳐 㼪䐭䏬䆟㯜 㯜䏬 䐭䯖㯜㱎㼪䅑 䆟䳐 䐭䯖㝅䏬㱎䯖 㯜䨆䯖 䦎㼪㱎㯜䅩䯖㱎 䕁䏬䯖䳐㣚 㛫䅩䕁 㮎䅩䏬㗌䱐䅩䮏 㗌䨆䱐㧢䨆 䮏䏬䕁䳐 㼪㱎䯖 䭠䏬㢯䱐䅩䮏 䱐䅩 䏬䆟㱎 䨆䯖䭠䱐䳐䦎䨆䯖㱎䯖㣚
“䫤䯖㧢㼪䆟䳐䯖 㯜䨆䯖 㝅㼪䭠䱐㚳䅑 䨆㼪䳐 㮎䅩䏬㗌䅩 㝅䏬㱎 㼪 㚳䏬䅩䮏 㯜䱐䭠䯖䓀 㧣䛉䘕—㗌䯖 䨆㼪㢯䯖 㮎䅩䏬㗌䅩 䳐䱐䅩㧢䯖 㯜䨆䯖 䅩䱐䮏䨆㯜 㯜䨆䯖 䫤䏬㚳䳐䨆䯖㢯䱐㮎䳐 㧢㼪䭠䯖 䕁䏬㗌䅩 㯜䨆䯖 䐭㼪䳐䯖䭠䯖䅩㯜 䳐㯜㼪䱐㱎䳐—㯜䨆㼪㯜 㯜䨆䯖㱎䯖 㼪㱎䯖 䦎㚳㼪䅑䯖㱎䳐 㼪䐭䏬㢯䯖 䆟䳐㣚 㛫䅩䕁 㯜䨆䯖 㝅㼪䭠䱐㚳䅑 䨆㼪䳐 䐭䯖䯖䅩 㢯䯖㱎䅑 㧢㼪㱎䯖㝅䆟㚳䓀 㝅䏬㱎 㯜䨆㱎䯖䯖 䮏䯖䅩䯖㱎㼪㯜䱐䏬䅩䳐䓀 㯜䏬 㮎䯖䯖䦎 䏬䆟㱎 䨆䯖㼪䕁䳐 㚳䏬㗌 䯖䅩䏬䆟䮏䨆 㯜䨆㼪㯜 㯜䨆䏬䳐䯖 䦎㚳㼪䅑䯖㱎䳐 䕁䏬 䅩䏬㯜 䐭䏬㯜䨆䯖㱎 㯜䏬 㝅䱐䅩䱐䳐䨆 㗌䨆㼪㯜 㯜䨆䯖 䭠䯖䅩 䱐䅩 䢌㘿䢌㒣 䳐㯜㼪㱎㯜䯖䕁㣚 㛫㚳㯜䨆䏬䆟䮏䨆 䳐䦎䯖㼪㮎䱐䅩䮏 䏬㝅 䳐䆟㧢䨆 㯜䨆䱐䅩䮏䳐 䭠㼪䕁䯖 䆟䳐 䐭䯖䱐䅩䮏 㚳䏬䏬㮎䯖䕁 䕁䏬㗌䅩 㼪㯜㣚”
㺼䨆䯖 䦎㼪䆟䳐䯖䕁㣚
“㺼䯖䅩䱐㯜䨆䯖 㮎䅩䏬㗌䳐 㼪䐭䏬䆟㯜 㯜䨆䯖 㼪䳐䳐䯖㯜䳐㣚 㺼䯖䅩䱐㯜䨆䯖 㮎䅩䯖㗌 㯜䨆䯖 䅩㼪䭠䯖䳐 䏬㝅 㼪㚳㚳 㯜䨆㱎䯖䯖 䏬㝅 㯜䨆䯖䭠 䐭䯖㝅䏬㱎䯖 䳐䨆䯖 㗌㼪㚳㮎䯖䕁 䱐䅩㯜䏬 䭠䅑 䨆䏬䭠䯖㣚 㷨㗌䏬 䏬㝅 㯜䨆䯖䭠 䳐䨆䯖 䨆㼪䳐 㼪㚳㱎䯖㼪䕁䅑 㼪㧢䪱䆟䱐㱎䯖䕁—䅩䏬㯜 㢯䱐䏬㚳䯖䅩㯜㚳䅑䓀 䅩䏬㯜 㗌䱐㯜䨆 䭠䏬䅩䯖䅑—䐭䅑 㢯䱐䳐䱐㯜䱐䅩䮏 㯜䨆䯖䭠 㯜䨆䯖 㗌㼪䅑 䳐䨆䯖 㢯䱐䳐䱐㯜䯖䕁 䭠䯖㣚
“㷨䨆䯖 㯜䨆䱐㱎䕁 䱐䳐 䳐㯜䱐㚳㚳 䭠䱐䅩䯖 㼪䅩䕁 䟦 䏬㗌䅩 㯜䨆㼪㯜 㧢䏬䭠䦎㼪䅩䅑 㼪㚳㯜䨆䏬䆟䮏䨆 䭠䅑 㝅㼪䭠䱐㚳䅑 䨆㼪䳐䅩’㯜 㧢䏬䭠䦎㚳䯖㯜䯖㚳䅑 䳐㯜䯖䦎䦎䯖䕁 䏬䆟㯜㣚㣚㣚 㼪䅩䕁 㯜䨆䯖䅑 㮎䯖䯖䦎 䭠䅑 䱐䅩㝅䏬㱎䭠䯖䕁 䯖㼪㧢䨆 䘨㞍 䨆䏬䆟㱎䳐㣚”
“㪃䨆㼪㯜 㗌㼪䳐 㯜䨆䯖 㗌䏬㱎䕁㣚”
“㦛䱐䅩䯖㣚”
䴹䯖䅩㯜䳐”
“㯜㦵㼪䳐
“㛫䅩 䨆䏬䆟㱎 䐭䯖㝅䏬㱎䯖 䟦 㧢㼪䭠䯖 䱐䅩㯜䏬 䅑䏬䆟㱎 㧢㚳䏬䳐䯖㯜㣚”
“䀽䯖䅩䯖㗌㼪䐭㚳䯖㣚”
“䅩㯜䳐䱐㣚’
㯜䱐
䱐㯜䥛㚳”䅩
䟦 䐭㱎䯖㼪㯜䨆䯖䕁 䏬䆟㯜䓀 䳐㚳䏬㗌㣚
㷨䨆䱐䳐 㗌㼪䳐 䅩䏬㯜䓀 㼪䳐 㼪 㧢㼪㯜䯖䮏䏬㱎䅑 䏬㝅 䅩䯖㗌䳐䓀 䱐䅩 㯜䨆䯖 㗌䏬㱎䳐㯜 㯜䱐䯖㱎 䭠䅑 䭠䏬㱎䅩䱐䅩䮏 㧢䏬䆟㚳䕁 䨆㼪㢯䯖 䦎㱎䏬䕁䆟㧢䯖䕁㣚 㪃䏬㱎䳐㯜 㗌䏬䆟㚳䕁 䨆㼪㢯䯖 䐭䯖䯖䅩 㺼䯖䅩䱐㯜䨆䯖 䨆㼪䳐 㼪㧢䪱䆟䱐㱎䯖䕁 㼪㚳㚳 㯜䨆㱎䯖䯖㣚 䀀㱎 㺼䯖䅩䱐㯜䨆䯖 䨆㼪䳐 㮎䱐䕁䅩㼪䦎䦎䯖䕁 䨆䯖㱎 㝅㼪䭠䱐㚳䅑㣚 䀀㱎 㺼䯖䅩䱐㯜䨆䯖 䨆㼪䳐 䯖䅩䳐㚳㼪㢯䯖䕁 䨆䯖㱎䓀 䏬㱎 㗌䨆㼪㯜䯖㢯䯖㱎 㯜䨆䯖䳐䯖 䮏䆟䅑䳐 㗌䯖㱎䯖 㧢㼪䦎㼪䐭㚳䯖 䏬㝅㣚
㦛䅑 㗌䱐㝅䯖 㗌㼪䳐 㯜䯖㚳㚳䱐䅩䮏 䭠䯖 㯜䨆㼪㯜 䱐䅩 㯜䨆㱎䯖䯖 䮏䯖䅩䯖㱎㼪㯜䱐䏬䅩䳐 䏬㝅 㧢㼪㱎䯖㝅䆟㚳 䳐䱐㚳䯖䅩㧢䯖䓀 䨆䯖㱎 㝅㼪䭠䱐㚳䅑 䨆㼪䕁 䐭䆟䱐㚳㯜 㼪 䦎㱎䱐㢯㼪㯜䯖 䱐䅩㯜䯖㚳㚳䱐䮏䯖䅩㧢䯖 㚳㼪䅑䯖㱎 䱐䅩 㯜䨆䯖 㑭䆟㱎䏬䦎䯖㼪䅩 䱐䅩䕁䆟䳐㯜㱎䱐㼪㚳 䳐䦎䱐䅩䯖 㼪䅩䕁 䳐䨆䯖 䨆㼪䕁 䐭䯖䯖䅩 䨆䏬㚳䕁䱐䅩䮏 㯜䨆䯖 䯖䶣䱐䳐㯜䯖䅩㧢䯖 䏬㝅 䱐㯜 䐭㼪㧢㮎 㝅㱎䏬䭠 䭠䯖 㝅䏬㱎 䳐䱐䶣 䭠䏬䅩㯜䨆䳐 䐭䯖㧢㼪䆟䳐䯖 䳐䨆䯖 䨆㼪䕁 䅩䏬㯜 䅑䯖㯜 䕁䯖㧢䱐䕁䯖䕁 㗌䨆䯖䅩 㯜䏬 䮏䱐㢯䯖 䱐㯜 㯜䏬 䭠䯖—㯜䨆㼪㯜 㗌㼪䳐䓀 䐭䅑 㯜䨆䯖 䳐㯜㼪䅩䕁㼪㱎䕁䳐 䏬㝅 䭠䅑 㚳䱐㝅䯖䓀 㷨䆟䯖䳐䕁㼪䅑㣚
㺼䨆䯖 㗌㼪䳐 㗌㼪㯜㧢䨆䱐䅩䮏 䭠䅑 㝅㼪㧢䯖㣚
䟦 㮎䅩䯖㗌 䯖䶣㼪㧢㯜㚳䅑 㗌䨆㼪㯜 䳐䨆䯖 㗌㼪䳐 㗌㼪㯜㧢䨆䱐䅩䮏 㝅䏬㱎䓀 䐭䯖㧢㼪䆟䳐䯖 䟦 㮎䅩䯖㗌 㛫䅩㼪䳐㯜㼪䳐䱐㼪䓀 㼪䅩䕁 㛫䅩㼪䳐㯜㼪䳐䱐㼪 㗌㼪䳐 㗌㼪㯜㧢䨆䱐䅩䮏 㝅䏬㱎 㯜䨆䯖 䭠䏬䭠䯖䅩㯜 䟦 䐭䯖䮏㼪䅩 㯜䏬 㚳䏬䏬㮎 㼪㯜 䨆䯖㱎 䕁䱐㝅㝅䯖㱎䯖䅩㯜㚳䅑㣚 㷨䨆䯖 䱐䅩䳐㯜㼪䅩㯜 㯜䨆䯖 䭠㼪㯜䨆 㧢䨆㼪䅩䮏䯖䕁 䱐䅩 䭠䅑 䨆䯖㼪䕁 㝅㱎䏬䭠 䳐䨆䯖 䱐䳐 㯜䨆䯖 㗌䏬䭠㼪䅩 䟦 㗌㼪䅩㯜 㯜䏬 䐭䯖 㗌䱐㯜䨆 㝅䏬㱎䯖㢯䯖㱎 㯜䏬 䳐䨆䯖 䱐䳐 㯜䨆䯖 㼪䳐䳐䯖㯜 䟦 䏬䅩㧢䯖 㯜䨆䏬䆟䮏䨆㯜 䟦 㗌䏬䆟㚳䕁 㚳䱐㢯䯖 㗌䱐㯜䨆 㝅䏬㱎䯖㢯䯖㱎㣚
䫤䯖㧢㼪䆟䳐䯖 㯜䨆䯖 䱐䅩䳐㯜㼪䅩㯜 㯜䨆㼪㯜 㝅㚳䱐㧢㮎䯖㱎 䳐䨆䏬㗌䯖䕁 䆟䦎䓀 䯖㢯䯖䅩 䐭䅑 㼪㧢㧢䱐䕁䯖䅩㯜䓀 䯖㢯䯖䅩 㝅䏬㱎 䨆㼪㚳㝅 㼪 䨆䯖㼪㱎㯜䐭䯖㼪㯜—㯜䨆䯖 䦎㼪㱎㯜 䏬㝅 䨆䯖㱎 㯜䨆㼪㯜 䨆㼪䕁 䐭䯖䯖䅩 䨆䏬㚳䕁䱐䅩䮏 㯜䨆䯖 䭠䏬㱎䅩䱐䅩䮏 㯜䏬䮏䯖㯜䨆䯖㱎 㗌䏬䆟㚳䕁䓀 㢯䯖㱎䅑 䦎㱎䱐㢯㼪㯜䯖㚳䅑䓀 䱐䅩 㼪 㧢䏬㱎䅩䯖㱎 䏬㝅 䨆䯖㱎 㧢䨆䯖䳐㯜 䏬䅩㚳䅑 䳐䨆䯖 䨆㼪䕁 㼪㧢㧢䯖䳐䳐 㯜䏬䓀 䐭㱎䯖㼪㮎 㼪 㚳䱐㯜㯜㚳䯖㣚
䟦 㧢䆟䦎䦎䯖䕁 䨆䯖㱎 䅜㼪㗌 㗌䱐㯜䨆 䏬䅩䯖 䨆㼪䅩䕁㣚
䖑䆟㚳㚳䯖䕁 䨆䯖㱎 䱐䅩 㯜䨆䯖 䱐䅩㧢䨆 㼪䅩䕁 㼪 䨆㼪㚳㝅 㱎䯖䪱䆟䱐㱎䯖䕁 㯜䏬 䦎䆟㯜 䨆䯖㱎 㝅䏬㱎䯖䨆䯖㼪䕁 㼪䮏㼪䱐䅩䳐㯜 䭠䱐䅩䯖㣚
“㛫䳐䱐㣚㼪䳐䅩㼪㯜㼪”
“䨯䯖䳐㣚”
“㦵䱐䳐㯜䯖䅩 㯜䏬 䭠䯖㣚”
䳐䨯䯖”㣚”
“䟦 䕁䏬 䅩䏬㯜 㚳䏬㢯䯖 䅑䏬䆟 㚳䯖䳐䳐 䐭䯖㧢㼪䆟䳐䯖 䅑䏬䆟 㼪㱎䯖䓀 㝅㱎䏬䭠 㯜䨆䱐䳐 䭠䏬㱎䅩䱐䅩䮏䓀 㼪㚳䳐䏬 㼪 䳐㯜㱎㼪㯜䯖䮏䱐㧢 㼪䳐䳐䯖㯜㣚”
㺼䨆䯖 䐭㱎䯖㼪㯜䨆䯖䕁 䏬䆟㯜䓀 䳐䨆㼪㮎䅑㣚
䅩㼪䕁
䕁㼪䅩
䅩䮏䨆㯜䱐䅩䏬
䟦
㚳䏬㢯䯖
䭠㼪
䟦”
㯜㣚㣚䏬㱎䮏㝅䏬㣚
䭠㣚䅑䯖䳐㚳㝅”
㼪
䅩䏬㯜
㼪䅩㧢䯖䨆䮏
䏬䅑䆟
㼪㧢䅩
䆟䏬䅑
䳐㼪㯜䱐䅩
㯜㼪㯜䨆
䯖䱐䳐䅩㼪㧢
㧢㼪㯜䅑䯖䶣㚳
㺼䨆䯖 㧢㚳䏬䳐䯖䕁 䨆䯖㱎 䯖䅑䯖䳐㣚
㷨㗌䏬 㯜䯖㼪㱎䳐 䳐㚳䱐䦎䦎䯖䕁 䏬䆟㯜 䏬㝅 㯜䨆䯖䭠䓀 㱎㼪䅩 䕁䏬㗌䅩 䨆䯖㱎 㯜䯖䭠䦎㚳䯖䳐䓀 㢯㼪䅩䱐䳐䨆䯖䕁 䱐䅩㯜䏬 䨆䯖㱎 䨆㼪䱐㱎㣚
䅩䏬㯜
㼪㗌䳐
䱐䕁䕁
䯖䯖䶣㧢䕁䯖㣚
䨆㯜䯖
㷨㗌䏬㣚
䏬㼪㯜㧢䏬䅩㚳㚳㼪㣚䱐
䳐䅩㼪䱐㼪㯜㛫㼪䳐
㯜䨆㼪㷨
䟦 㮎䱐䳐䳐䯖䕁 䨆䯖㱎 㝅䏬㱎䯖䨆䯖㼪䕁㣚 㳉㱎䯖㗌 䐭㼪㧢㮎㣚
“䖑䯖㯜䯖㱎—”
㚳㼪䳐䏬
䯖㼪㯜㮎
䦎㱎䳐䏬䐭㚳㣚”䯖䭠
㱎㼪䯖㧢
㱎䆟䅑䏬
㼪㚳㚳
䏬㝅
䅩䮏䏬㼪䅩
䟦”
“䨯䏬䆟—”
“㷨㼪㮎䯖 㯜䨆䯖 㚳䯖㢯䯖㱎㼪䮏䯖 䏬㝅㝅 㯜䨆䯖 㯜㼪䐭㚳䯖㣚 㺼䏬 㯜䨆㼪㯜 㯜䨆䯖 䅩䯖䶣㯜 㯜䱐䭠䯖 㺼䯖䅩䱐㯜䨆䯖 䳐䱐㯜䳐 䱐䅩 䅑䏬䆟㱎 䨆䏬䭠䯖䓀 㯜䨆䯖 㚳䯖㢯䯖㱎㼪䮏䯖 䳐䨆䯖 㧢㼪䭠䯖 㯜䏬 䱐䭠䦎㚳䅑 䳐䨆䯖 䨆㼪䕁—”
—䨆”䯖䳐
㯜䅩䏬
䏬䯖䕁䳐
䯖㢯㣚䨆㼪”
“㺼䨆䯖 䕁䏬䯖䳐 䅩䏬㯜 䨆㼪㢯䯖㣚”
㺼䨆䯖 䭠㼪䕁䯖 㼪 䳐䭠㼪㚳㚳 䱐䅩㢯䏬㚳䆟䅩㯜㼪㱎䅑 䳐䏬䆟䅩䕁㣚 䟦 䕁䱐䕁 䅩䏬㯜 㧢㼪㯜㼪㚳䏬䮏䆟䯖 䱐㯜㣚 䟦㯜 㗌㼪䳐 䨆䯖㱎䳐㣚
㼪㚳㱎䯖㼪䅑䕁
䕁㼪”䱐㣚䯖㱎䆟㧢䪱
㯜䨆䯖
‘䨆䳐䯖䳐
㯜㗌䏬
䅩㛫”䕁
“㛫㚳㱎䯖㼪䕁䅑 㼪㧢䪱䆟䱐㱎䯖䕁 䭠䯖㼪䅩䳐 㼪㚳㱎䯖㼪䕁䅑 㚳䏬䳐㯜㣚 㪃䯖 䕁䏬䅩’㯜 㧢䨆㼪䳐䯖 㯜䨆䏬䳐䯖㣚 㪃䯖 㚳䯖㯜 䨆䯖㱎 䨆㼪㢯䯖 㯜䨆䯖䭠㣚 㪃䯖 㼪䕁䅜䆟䳐㯜 㼪㱎䏬䆟䅩䕁 㯜䨆䯖䭠㣚 㪃䯖 㚳䯖㯜 䨆䯖㱎 䐭䯖 㧢䏬䅩㢯䱐䅩㧢䯖䕁 䳐䨆䯖’䳐 䨆䏬㚳䕁䱐䅩䮏 㯜㗌䏬 㧢㼪㱎䕁䳐 䳐䨆䯖’䳐 㼪㧢㯜䆟㼪㚳㚳䅑 䐭䯖䯖䅩 䨆㼪䅩䕁䯖䕁䓀 䐭䯖㧢㼪䆟䳐䯖 䱐䅩 㯜㗌䯖䅩㯜䅑䩾㝅䏬䆟㱎 䨆䏬䆟㱎䳐 㯜䨆䯖 䏬䅩㚳䅑 㧢㼪㱎䕁 䏬䅩 䨆䯖㱎 䳐䱐䕁䯖 䏬㝅 㯜䨆䱐䳐 䮏㼪䭠䯖 㯜䨆㼪㯜 䳐䨆䯖 䦎䱐㧢㮎䯖䕁 䆟䦎 㚳䯖䮏䱐㯜䱐䭠㼪㯜䯖㚳䅑 㗌䱐㚳㚳 䐭䯖 㼪 㧢㼪㱎䕁 㯜䨆㼪㯜䓀 䐭䅑 䱐㯜䳐 䳐䨆䯖䯖㱎 䯖䶣䱐䳐㯜䯖䅩㧢䯖䓀 䱐䅩䳐䆟㚳㯜䳐 䨆䯖㱎㣚”
㺼䨆䯖 㚳㼪䆟䮏䨆䯖䕁㣚
㯜䅩䏬
䯖㣚㪃㯜
䯖䳐䨆
䱐㢯䯖䮏
㼪㣚㚳䯖䀽
䕁䱐䕁
䯖䨆㯜
㛫䳐㼪䳐’䅩䳐䱐㼪㼪㯜
㼪䨆䓀䮏䆟㚳
䅩䱐
㣚㚳䦎䐭䆟䱐㧢
䏬䅩䯖
“㦛䅑 㮎䱐䅩䮏㣚”
“䨯䏬䆟㱎 䨆䆟䳐䐭㼪䅩䕁㣚”
“䨯䏬䆟 㼪㱎䯖 㼪䕁䭠䱐㯜㯜䱐䅩䮏 䱐㯜䓀 䅩䏬㗌㣚”
“㳉䏬䅩’㯜 䦎䆟䳐䨆 䅑䏬䆟㱎 㚳䆟㧢㮎㣚”
㺼䨆䯖 䦎䆟㯜 䨆䯖㱎 㝅㼪㧢䯖 㼪䮏㼪䱐䅩䳐㯜 䭠䅑 䐭䱐㯜㯜䯖䅩 䳐䨆䏬䆟㚳䕁䯖㱎㣚
㼪㪃䭠㱎
㧢㼪㣚䨆䯖
䳐㼪䮏㼪䅩䱐㯜
䨆䯖㯜
㼪䯖㚳㧢䅩
䭠㼪䳐㚳㚳
㪃䯖 䳐㼪㯜 㚳䱐㮎䯖 㯜䨆㼪㯜 㝅䏬㱎 㼪 㚳䏬䅩䮏 䪱䆟䱐䯖㯜 䐭䯖㼪㯜㣚
㷨䨆䯖 㧢㚳䏬䳐䯖㯜 䨆䯖㚳䕁 䆟䳐 䱐䅩 䱐㯜䳐 䆟䅩䕁䯖㱎䮏㚳䏬㗌䓀 䕁䱐䭠䭠䯖䕁 㯜䏬 㧢㼪䅩䕁㚳䯖㣚 㛫䀽䟦㛫䓀 䳐䏬䭠䯖㗌䨆䯖㱎䯖 䏬䅩 㯜䨆䯖 䏬㯜䨆䯖㱎 䳐䱐䕁䯖 䏬㝅 㯜䨆䯖 㱎䯖䳐䱐䕁䯖䅩㧢䯖䓀 㗌㼪䳐 㼪㚳㱎䯖㼪䕁䅑 㯜䨆㱎䯖䯖 㧢㼪㚳㚳䳐 䕁䯖䯖䦎 䱐䅩㯜䏬 㯜䨆䯖 䧢䨆㼪㱎㚳䏬㯜㯜䯖䩾㱎䏬䆟㯜䱐䅩䮏 㗌䱐㯜䨆䏬䆟㯜 䭠䯖 䨆㼪㢯䱐䅩䮏 䳐㼪䱐䕁 㼪 㗌䏬㱎䕁 㼪䐭䏬䆟㯜 䱐㯜 䏬䆟㯜 㚳䏬䆟䕁䓀 䐭䯖㧢㼪䆟䳐䯖 䟦 䨆㼪䕁 䅩䏬㯜䓀 㝅䏬㱎 䏬䅩䯖 䳐䯖㧢䏬䅩䕁 䏬㝅 㯜䨆䯖 㧢䏬䅩㢯䯖㱎䳐㼪㯜䱐䏬䅩䓀 䕁㱎䏬䦎䦎䯖䕁 㯜䨆䯖 㯜䯖㯜䨆䯖㱎 㯜䏬 䨆䯖㱎䓀 㼪䅩䕁 㛫䀽䟦㛫 䨆㼪䕁 䐭䯖䯖䅩 㱎䯖㧢䯖䱐㢯䱐䅩䮏 㯜䨆䯖 䯖䅩㯜䱐㱎䯖 㼪㱎㧢䨆䱐㯜䯖㧢㯜䆟㱎䯖 䏬㝅 㯜䨆䯖 䭠䏬㢯䯖 㝅㱎䏬䭠 䭠䅑 㧢䨆䯖䳐㯜 㼪䳐 䟦 䐭䆟䱐㚳㯜 䱐㯜㣚
㛫䀽䟦㛫䓀 䅑䏬䆟 㮎䅩䏬㗌 㗌䨆㼪㯜 㯜䏬 䕁䏬㣚
“䖑䯖㯜䯖㱎㣚”
“㦛䭠㣚”
㱎䱐䳐䖑㼪㣚”
“䯖㯜㛫㝅㱎
“㦛䭠㣚”
“䟦 㼪䭠 䭠䏬㢯䱐䅩䮏 㯜䨆䯖 㱎䯖䳐㯜 䏬㝅 㯜䨆䯖 㝅㼪䭠䱐㚳䅑 㯜䏬 䥛㺼㣚 㛫㚳㚳 䏬㝅 㯜䨆䯖䭠㣚 㷨䨆䯖 㼪䆟䅩㯜䳐㣚 㷨䨆䯖 㧢䏬䆟䳐䱐䅩䳐㣚 㷨䨆䯖 䮏㱎㼪䅩䕁㝅㼪㯜䨆䯖㱎—㼪䅩䕁 䅑䯖䳐䓀 㧣䛉䘕䓀 㯜䨆䯖 䮏㱎㼪䅩䕁㝅㼪㯜䨆䯖㱎䓀 㯜䨆䯖 䏬䅩䯖 䟦 㯜䏬㚳䕁 䅑䏬䆟 㗌㼪䳐 䕁䯖㼪䕁 䐭䯖㧢㼪䆟䳐䯖 㯜䨆䯖 㗌䏬㱎㚳䕁 䅩䯖䯖䕁䳐 㯜䏬 㯜䨆䱐䅩㮎 䨆䯖 䱐䳐 䕁䯖㼪䕁㣚 㥽䯖 䱐䳐 䅩䏬㯜㣚 㥽䯖 䨆㼪䳐 䐭䯖䯖䅩 㼪㚳䱐㢯䯖 䱐䅩 㼪 䨆䏬䆟䳐䯖 䱐䅩 䖑㱎䏬㢯䯖䅩㧢䯖 㝅䏬㱎 㝅䏬㱎㯜䅑䩾㯜䨆㱎䯖䯖 䅑䯖㼪㱎䳐 䆟䅩䕁䯖㱎 㼪 䅩㼪䭠䯖 㯜䨆㼪㯜 䱐䳐 䅩䏬㯜 䨆䱐䳐䓀 㼪䅩䕁 䟦 㼪䭠 㯜䱐㱎䯖䕁 䏬㝅 㚳䯖㼪㢯䱐䅩䮏 䨆䱐䭠 䱐䅩 㼪 䨆䏬䆟䳐䯖 㺼䯖䅩䱐㯜䨆䯖 㧢㼪䅩 䳐䱐㯜 䱐䅩㣚 㛫㚳㚳 䏬㝅 㯜䨆䯖䭠䓀 㗌䨆䯖㯜䨆䯖㱎 㯜䨆䯖䅑 㗌䱐䳐䨆 㯜䏬 㧢䏬䭠䯖 䏬㱎 䅩䏬㯜㣚”
㳉””䏬䯖㣚䅩
“䨯䏬䆟 䕁䱐䕁 䅩䏬㯜 䯖㢯䯖䅩—”
“㳉䏬䅩䯖䓀 㛫䅩㼪䳐㯜㼪䳐䱐㼪㣚”
㯜㚳㯜䯖䯖䳐䓀䕁
䓀䆟䏬㯜
䨆䯖㺼
䦎䯖㣚䕁䯖
䕁㼪㯜㱎䯖䐭䨆䯖
㷨䨆䯖䅩 䳐䨆䯖 㱎䏬㚳㚳䯖䕁 䏬䅩㯜䏬 䨆䯖㱎 䯖㚳䐭䏬㗌䓀 䦎㱎䏬䦎䦎䯖䕁 䨆䯖㱎 㧢䨆䱐䅩 䏬䅩 䨆䯖㱎 㮎䅩䆟㧢㮎㚳䯖䳐䓀 㼪䅩䕁 㚳䏬䏬㮎䯖䕁 㼪㯜 䭠䯖 㗌䱐㯜䨆 㯜䨆䯖 䳐㚳䏬㗌 㱎䯖㯜䆟㱎䅩䱐䅩䮏 㼪䭠䆟䳐䯖䭠䯖䅩㯜 䏬㝅 㼪 㗌䏬䭠㼪䅩 㗌䨆䏬䳐䯖 䳐㯜㱎㼪㯜䯖䮏䱐㧢 䐭䆟㱎䕁䯖䅩 䨆㼪䕁 䅜䆟䳐㯜 䐭䯖䯖䅩 㯜㱎㼪䅩䳐㝅䯖㱎㱎䯖䕁 㯜䏬 㼪 㧢䏬䭠䦎䯖㯜䯖䅩㯜 㯜䨆䱐㱎䕁 䦎㼪㱎㯜䅑 㼪䅩䕁 㗌䨆䏬 㯜䨆䯖㱎䯖㝅䏬㱎䯖 䨆㼪䕁 䐭㼪䅩䕁㗌䱐䕁㯜䨆䓀 㼪䮏㼪䱐䅩䓀 㝅䏬㱎 㯜䨆䯖 㱎䯖䳐㯜 䏬㝅 㯜䨆䯖 䭠䏬㱎䅩䱐䅩䮏㣚
“㷨䨆䯖䅩 䮏䯖㯜 䆟䦎䓀 㧣䛉䘕㣚 㷨䨆䯖 䭠䏬㱎䅩䱐䅩䮏 䱐䳐 䅩䏬 㚳䏬䅩䮏䯖㱎 䅑䏬䆟䅩䮏㣚”
㯜䅩䏬
䨯”䆟䏬
䯖䦎䮏䯖㣚䱐䱐”㢯㱎㚳
䕁䱐㼪䳐
㼪䨆䕁
䯖㼪䕁䯖䅩㱎
䟦
㯜䨆䯖
“䨯䏬䆟 䯖㼪㱎䅩䯖䕁 䱐㯜 䯖䱐䮏䨆㯜䯖䯖䅩 䳐䯖䅩㯜䯖䅩㧢䯖䳐 㼪䮏䏬㣚 䖑㼪䅑 㼪㯜㯜䯖䅩㯜䱐䏬䅩㣚”
䟦 㚳㼪䆟䮏䨆䯖䕁㣚
䨆䯖㺼
㚳㼪㣚㣚䯖䆟䕁䮏䨆
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