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."
"You had better take us along-since you don't seem to be 'fully empowered'
on this critical issue."
"Uh... please wait here."
I stood up. "No, I had better get back. The Senator may be looking for me.
Please tell the Manager that I'm sorry I could not arrange it." I turned to
Gwen. "Come, Madam. Let's not keep him waiting." (I wondered if Mungerson would
notice that "him" was a pronoun without a referent.)
Gwen stood up, took my arm. Fitts said hastily, "Please, friends, don't
leave! Uh, come with me." He herded us to an unmarked door. "Wait just one
moment, please!"
He was gone more than a moment but nevertheless only a short time. He
returned with his face wreathed with smiles (I think that is the expression).
"Right this way, please!" He took us through the unmarked door, down a short
passage, and into the Manager's inner office.
The Manager looked up from his desk and inspected us, not with the
familiar, fatherly expression of the too-frequent "Word from the Manager"
announcements that come over every terminal. On the contrary Mr. Sethos looked
as if he had found something nasty in his porridge.
I ignored his chilly demeanor. Instead I stood just inside the door, Gwen
still on my arm, and waited. I once lived with a fussy cat (is there another
sort?) who, when faced with an offering of food not perfectly to his taste,
would stand still and, with dignified restraint, look offended-a remarkable bit
of acting for one whose face was completely covered with ftir;
however, he did it mostly by body language
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