“Nursultan is clearing the table,” he said to Pasha. “I feel rotten every time this happens, when he has to evict whoever is already sitting there.” “Don’t feel bad. You’re the shining future of Russia.” Pasha half smiled and half grimaced. “That’s precisely why I feel bad.” Nikolai shrugged. They had had this conversation in many different variations before. But the fact of the matter was, there was no other way for Pasha to patronize a place like this. Besides, if the men at the table knew it was the tsesarevich who was usurping their table, they would gladly relocate. That line of logic,
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