Once, when he thought he had done so, he smiled an ingratiating smile. She pointed hither and yon, smiled and shook her head. The cook tried to ply her with spiced meat and fish soup. Manning, relinquishing his cup without answering her question, “when I hear you talk of earning a living, it’s as if I heard of an archangel going on the Stock Exchange—or Christ selling doves. It’s all nonsense. Sometimes I take innocent lives.
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