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The fool strikes, she had said. The wise man smiles, and watches, and learns. Then strikes.
But enemies, as his mother used to say, are the price of success.
When a wise minister has nothing but enemies, she beats one with a worse.
“You don’t blame me?” he whispered. “Why would I?” She gave him a last parting squeeze, then let him go. “It’s better if you do it.”



































