"Talk sense, said Syme shortly." "Into what sort of devils' parliament have you entrapped me, if it comes to that? You made me swear before I made you [swear.] Perhaps we are both doing what we think is right. But what we think is right is so damned different that there can be nothing between us in the way of concession. There is nothing possible between us but honor and death," and he pulled the great cloak about his shoulders and picked up the flask from the table.
Something to remember the next time someone asks you to 'dialogue' over their dissent.
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