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."
"But --" Thorby shut up. There was no use arguing; there was too much work to be done.
"Smith" added, "Anything else?"
"I guess not."
"I'll have a first check on de la Croix by tomorrow. See you."
Thorby switched off, feeling glummer than ever. It was not the Wing Marshal's half-whimsical threat, nor even his troubled conscience over spending large amounts of other people's money on a project that stood little chance of success; it was simply that he was swamped by a job more complex than he had believed possible.
He picked up the top item again, put it down, pressed the key that sealed him through to Rudbek estate. Leda was summoned to the screen. "I'll be late again. I'm sorry."
"I'll delay dinner. They're enjoying themselves and I had the kitchen make the canapes substantial"
Thorby shook his head. "Take the head of the table. I'll eat here. I may sleep here."
She sighed. "If you sleep. Look, my stupid dear, be in bed by midnight and up not before six. Promise?"
"Okay. If possible."
"It had better be possible, or you will have trouble with me. See you."
He didn't even pick up the top item this time; he simply sat in thought. Good girl, Leda . . . she had even tried to help in the business -- until it had become clear that business was not her forte. But she was one bright spot in the gloom; she always bucked him up. If it wasn't patently unfair for a Guardsman to marry -- But he couldn't be that unfair to Leda and he had no reason to think she would be willing anyhow
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