“They were great.” He fixes his collar and smiles so big his dimples appear. “You did well to suggest writing to that boy. Laurence. I could see in his face that it was like a door in his mind had been opened.” “He wanted to do it because Wei Fangli told him he could,” I burst out. “I’m not Fangli. It was a fraud.” Sam’s dimples vanish. “The trigger is irrelevant. Once the idea you can do something occurs to you, that’s all that matters. Who cares who twists the handle for Laurence as long as he can walk through the door?” “It’s not right,” I say, digging in. “The ends don’t justify the
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