“Please, stop with the good man remarks. It sounds false to me, to be perfectly honest. It sounds like flattery.” “Ah,” he said. “You do not believe you are a good man.” “Of course I do. I don’t hurt people. I’m a good father, I know that. A good husband. A decent citizen. We do our share of charitable work, Jeannie and I. We give generously to various causes.” “But something,” he said, and he waved both hands around in a way that he had, as if he were playing an imaginary, upside-down keyboard with floating fingers, the notes not quite beside each other, the piano itself not quite level.
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