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datatime: 2022-10-04 04:37:34 Author:ImzmDcOm

Pleased to make your acquaintance. The priest crushed his hand in greeting.This is no gentle lamb of God, thought D'Agosta. He eased down in the chair, shifting, trying hard to get comfortable. He failed. The room, despite the sunny day outside, felt cold and damp. God, he would never make a good monk.

Why did he call you?

Pendergast nodded.

Pleased to make your acquaintance. The priest crushed his hand in greeting.This is no gentle lamb of God, thought D'Agosta. He eased down in the chair, shifting, trying hard to get comfortable. He failed. The room, despite the sunny day outside, felt cold and damp. God, he would never make a good monk.

As I told the police, the call came to my home at 3:10 in the morning-the answering machine registered the time-but every year I take a two-week retreat here, and so I wasn't home to receive it. I check my messages upon rising-it's a violation of the rules, but I've got an elderly mother. I immediately headed out to Long Island, but, of course, it was too late.

Quite all right. I just hope I can be of help. This is a tragic business.

Grove stayed in Florence and I visited him several times. He was living in a beautiful villa in the hills south of the city.

Pendergast nodded at him to proceed.

Pendergast nodded at him to proceed.

We'll take as little of your time as possible. Perhaps we should begin with the telephone call.

We'll take as little of your time as possible. Perhaps we should begin with the telephone call.

I see, Pendergast replied.

You're right there, said D'Agosta with feeling. "Those who can't do, teach, and those who can't teach, critique."

Pendergast nodded at him to proceed.

You're right there, said D'Agosta with feeling. "Those who can't do, teach, and those who can't teach, critique."

Pendergast nodded.

You're right there, said D'Agosta with feeling. "Those who can't do, teach, and those who can't teach, critique."

Grove felt betrayed by God. He became . . . well, you certainly couldn't call him an atheist or an agnostic. Rather, he picked a fight with God. He deliberately embarked on a life of sin and violence against God, which in reality was a life of violence against his own higher self. He became an art critic. Criticism is a profession which allows one a certain license to be vicious outside the bounds of normal civilized behavior. One would never tell another person in private that his painting was a revolting piece of trash, but the critic thinks nothing of making the same pronouncement to the world as if he were performing a high moral duty. There is no profession more ignoble than that of the critic-except perhaps that of the physician presiding at an execution.

Pendergast nodded at him to proceed.

I'll buy it immediately.

I see, murmured Pendergast.

Pendergast nodded.

Pendergast nodded.

Quite all right. I just hope I can be of help. This is a tragic business.

I see, Pendergast replied.

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