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‘Well, that ell For Francoeur,’ said Brébeuf, catching up with hi, but stared at the nunificant The elevator came and the two men stepped in, alone

‘You could have told him as in the envelope, you know,’ said Brébeuf ‘It can’t possibly be that important What was in it anyway?’

‘I’ht himself back to the present

‘The envelope, Ar much’

‘For God’s sake, man, why not tell him?’

‘He didn’t say please’ Gamache smiled

Brébeuf scowled ‘Do you ever listen to yourself? All the advice you give others, does any of it penetrate your own thick skull? Why keep this secret? It’s our secrets that make us sick Isn’t that what you always say?’

‘There’s a difference between secrecy and privacy’

‘Semantics’

The elevator door opened and Brébeuf stepped out The one better than he’d dared dream Gamache was almost certainly out of the Sûreté, but more than that, he was humiliated, ruined Or soon would be

Inside the elevator Armand Gamache stood rooted like one of Gilles Sandon’s trees And had Sandon been there he ht have heard what no one else could, Arh felled

Behold I show you awords of St Paul’s letter to the Corinthians swirled around Ga of an eye his world had changed He could see clearly so he never wanted to see

He’d stopped at the high school in Notre-Daht the secretary as she left for the day Now he sat in the parking lot staring at the two things she’d given him An alumni list and another yearbook She’d wondered why in the world he needed so ies and she’d relented He thought she n him lines I will not lose another yearbook