[ If he were more in control of himself, Byerly would keep picking at it, boring at that little crack, driving after the ghem-Colonel's fear, fanning its flames. That's what he does best. Plants doubts, plants bad ideas, flatters and flirts. Turns people away from their usual purposes. Finds out where the seeds of doubt are and reports it back to his superiors. Under fast-penta...he just cheerily nods and moves along. ]
You know, it's sweet. I think the old man genuinely loves her. I think he respects her.
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You know, it's sweet. I think the old man genuinely loves her. I think he respects her.