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wanted to talk.
"I wish I was leaving the country."
Young Stencil, old Machiavel. Soon he had Profane talking about his women problems.
"I don't know what Paola wants. You know her better. Do you know what she wants?"
An embarrassing question for Stencil. He dodged:
"Aren't you two - how shall one say [link widoczny dla zalogowanych] "
An embarrassing question for Stencil. He dodged:
"Aren't you two - how shall one say."
"No," Profane said. "No, no."
But Stencil was there again, next evening. "Truth of it is," he admitted, "Stencil can't handle her. But you can."
"Don't talk," said Profane. "Drink."
Hours later they were both out [link widoczny dla zalogowanych] er. But you can."
"Don't talk," said Profane. "Drink."
Hours later they were both out of their heads. "You wouldn't consider coming along with them," Stencil wondered.
"I have been there once. Why should I want to go back."
"But didn't Valletta - somehow - get to you? Make you feel anything?"
"I went down to [link widoczny dla zalogowanych]
"But didn't Valletta - somehow - get to you? Make you feel anything?"
"I went down to the Gut and got drunk like everybody else. I was too drunk to feel anything."
Which eased Stencil. He was scared to death of Valletta. He'd feel better with Profane, anybody else, along on this jaunt (a) to take care of Paola,&nbs