“My poor Sebastian. Crushed under the weight of that beautiful cloak?” He touched it. “Lost in a forest of tradition?” “You understand it. You can’t know anything about it, yet you understand it. You understand both sides.” “Our all too infrequent conversations,” said Anquetil suddenly, “always seem to take place under unusual circumstances.” “Last time, we sat on the roofs of Chevron.” “Sebastian,” said Anquetil, “take care. You are letting yourself be misled by a symbol.” “Am I?” said Sebastian, startled. “But is…
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