He claims he's discovered a practical method of mass-transference through space. One day, out of sheer desperate boredom, George asked for a book. I do what I can, but I'm not with him all the time and I'm not all he needs. Well, said Swift.
And those who don't? The ninety-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine that don't? We can't have all those people considering themselves failures. I swear it. Trevelyan reached out fiercely, catching hold of George's jacket. It was deep twilight now.
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