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. "She simply wants you to stand
tall and not blame other people for your acts. Not make excuses."
Having delivered myself of my favorite duck-billed platitude I went back to
glum self-assessment. / make excuses. Yes, but not out loud, just to myself.
That's an excuse in itself, chum- whatever you've done, whatever you've been, is
all, totally, one hundred percent, your own fault. All.
Or to my credit. Yes, but damned little. Come on, be truthful.
But look where I started... and still got all the way up to colonel.
In the most whoreson, chancre-ridden, thieving, looting gang of thugs since
the Crusades.
Don't talk that way about the Regiment!
Very well. But they aren't the Coldstream Guards, are they?
Those dudes! Why, just one platoon of Campbell's-
Dreck.
Gwen returned, having been gone-oh, quite a time. I hadn't checked the time
when she left but it was now, I saw, almost eighteen. I tried to stand-not
practical with both table and chair bolted down. She asked, "Have I held up
dinner?"
"Not a bit. We ate, and threw the leavings to me pigs."
"All right. Mama-San won't let me go hungry."
"And Papa-San won't serve without you."
"Richard. I did something without consulting you."
"I don't see anything in the book that says that you have to. Can we square
it with the cops?"
"Nothing like that
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