Breaking Free, Loving Again -The Flash Marriage with Mr. CEO novel Chapter 379

Chapter 379: Could it be Ryan -the jerk- Foster?

"So, you are telling me that what you saw in your dream last night wasn't actually a dream but something that you have experienced in the past?"

Gianna questioned, just after she heard Arwen explain it all to her. From the dream to what she has seen and what she has felt about it.

Arwen's expression was as complicated as it had been last night. She simply shrugged and answered. "I don't know. I am confused."

"What are you confused about, Arwen?" Gianna asked, still not quite understanding what was confusing Arwen exactly. "It can either be a dream, or it cannot be. You just have to think and then decide if it was something that you have built out of your imagination or something that you actually experienced in reality."

On if that was as simple as she put in the words …

Arwen shook her head, not able to explain.

Standing, she turned and walked towards the window. "It's not as easy as that, Anna. I am not able to explain it to you."

She paused, shaking her head in slight desperation. "I don't know how to explain it to anyone. The dream was too vivid, too real to be called a dream. It didn't look like some imagination at all.'

"Then it must not be an imagination at all, Wenna," Gianna spoke, her tone stating as if it was too obvious to not understand. "It must be something that must have happened in the past. You might have known him. And —"

Before Gianna could say further, Arwen turned back to face her, shaking her head.

Confused, Gianna stopped mid-sentence to listen to Arwen.

"How can it be real, Anna. I don't hold any such memory. It had never happened in my life. I never behaved that comfortable with anybody as I was behaving that that boy." Arwen explained the second part of her confusion.

And listening to her, Gianna frowned. "Then you mean that it's neither a dream nor the memory?"

Arwen shook her head again. "I am saying that it feels both, but is none. I can't tell if it is a dream or reality that had happened with me in the past."

"But how can that be possible? It should be either one of them, right?" Gianna felt it was more complicated. Suddenly, she realized something and asked, "Wait, Arwen, you said that boy felt familiar to you. Do you remember who he is?"

Arwen thought back to what she had seen in her dream, and then after giving it a thought, she shook her head. "I don't know. His face wasn't quite visible. It was very blurry. So, I don't know who he was. I might know him, or maybe I not."

"What if you truly know him then?" Gianna asked. "Do you think at such a young age, you would have promised someone to marry in the future?"

"I —"

"Wait!"

Before Arwen could answer Gianna, she halted her, her expression frozen as if she had realized something that scared her to the core.

Seeing her like that, Arwen's brows also knitted. "What's wrong?"

"Wenna, think carefully … like really carefully," Gianna slowly said as if she was really cautious about even speaking about it. Like, if she said it too fast, or too loudly, it might turn out to be the truth in reality. "By any chance, can that boy be Ryan?"

"Huh?"

Arwen was slightly taken aback.

Feeling like she hadn't been very clear with her words, Gianna repeated it again. "I asked by any chance, is it possible that the guy you have seen in your dream can be Ryan—the - 'jerk'—Foster?"

If that turns out to be true …

Wouldn't that mean that Arwen have long promised him her life, yet later she chose to back down from it?

As far as she has known Arwen, she never goes back on her words. If she made a promise to someone, she would fulfil it, regardless of what it would cost her.

If that really turns out to be true, and Ryan turns out to be that guy, she would have to find a way to make Arwen realize that the promises made at such a young age need not be serious.

After all, now she was her aunt … her uncle's wife —Mrs. Winslow.

Arwen paused at her words.

Seeing her like that, Gianna thought Arwen was actually thinking it was true, But the very instant she would have cried, Arwen shook her head and clicked her tongue at the idea.

"No, it can't be Ryan," Arwen said.

And a relief washed over Gianna's panicked heart. She moved her hand to pat her chest to ease the constriction she felt there. "He can't be?" she asked, sighing out a deep breath.

Arwen shook her head, more confidently. "He can't be. It's more like impossible for him to be that boy."

"Oh, is it?" Gianna smiled … more like happily smiled. "Why are you so confident? I mean, h-he has been with you since the very early days, right? You grew up together, more or less like childhood sweethearts. So, I thought —"

"Anna, I have never been that close to Ryan," Arwen said without any hesitation. "Even if we grew together, I never stood even a meter close to him until it was necessary. He simply can't be the boy I saw in my dream. And he was different from him … like very different."

"Different?" Gianna's interest was piqued. "How was he different? Since you didn't see his face, it definitely can't be his looks that made you think so, right?"

Arwen's brows furrowed. She truly wanted to see that face.

Although she hadn't seen it, given the way her younger version was smiling at him, the way her gaze held her … it was obvious the boy must have held the charms enough to captivate her.

"He was different from him because he was more like human towards me. He cared about him and behaved like; he would have gone to the extent of Heaven if I asked him to. He was simply too doting."

Ahem!

Gianna coughed, interrupting Arwen. "Then I can't even imagine my uncle to be that boy. Hasn't that boy set your standards a little too high?"

"Your Uncle?" Arwen paused at the mention of Aiden.

If asked her, that boy did seem like Aiden. They did feel to be similar.

䘵䝖䎅䖋㡖䯎㘭㞆㧖 㸅㝚㘭㸅䇆㝚䖋 爐爐䯎㙴㸅㞆䘵䋠㸅㝚㸅䯎㸅㡖㘭㞆㠦㧖䲿㯠㞆䅌老魯老 㱻㱻㧖䩊䅌盧盧老䯎䋠䅌 露 虜䋠䯎㧖㝚㸅 㸅㝚㸅䋠

䌒䖋㸅 䎔㘭䯎㸅 䖋㯠㡖㧖 㫾㘭㸅 㳭㘭㱻㸅㙴䋨㱻㧖 㸅㙴㳭㧖䯎䎅 䯎㝚㧖 㝚䋠䁒 㯠䖋㸅㙴㡖㧖䁒 㸅㝚㧖 㘭㯠㡖䋠㯠㯠㚎 䘵䋠㳭㙴㱻㙴䋠㞆㙴㸅㚎 㫾㧖㸅䅌㧖㧖㯠 䲿㙴䁒㧖㯠 䋠㯠䁒 㸅㝚㧖 㫾䖋㚎 䯎㝚㧖 䯎䋠䅌 㙴㯠 㝚㧖㞆 䁒㞆㧖䋠㳭䩊

䲿㸅 㸅㙴㳭㧖䯎䎅 㸅㝚㧖㚎 㱻䖋䖋㠦㧖䁒 䯎䖋 䯎㙴㳭㙴㱻䋠㞆 㸅㝚䋠㸅 䯎㝚㧖 䋠㱻㳭䖋䯎㸅 㫾㧖㱻㙴㧖㶟㧖䁒 㸅㝚㧖㚎 䅌㧖㞆㧖㯠'㸅 䁒㙴䘵䘵㧖㞆㧖㯠㸅 䋠㸅 䋠㱻㱻 —㫾㘭㸅 㸅㝚㧖 䯎䋠㳭㧖 䋨㧖㞆䯎䖋㯠䩊

㯠㸅㝚㧖… 䧮㘭㸅

㵪䖋䅌 㡖䖋㘭㱻䁒 㙴㸅 㫾㧖 䲿㙴䁒㧖㯠䮍

㕑㸅 㡖䋠㯠'㸅 㫾㧖 㝚㙴㳭䩊

㡖䋠㝚㧖 䋠䯎㧖㠦䁒 㝚䋠䁒䋨䋠㸅䩊䯎㚎㧖㝚㸅㞆㧖㝚㸅䖋㯠䅌㧖㠦 㧖㝚㸅䘵㙴 㙴㯠 㧖㝚䆩 㫾㞆㧖㧖䘵䖋㳭㙴㝚

䧮㘭㸅 㧖㶟㧖㞆㚎 䯎㙴㯠䇆㱻㧖 㸅㙴㳭㧖䎅 㝚㧖 㝚䋠䁒 㸅䖋㱻䁒 㝚㧖㞆 㸅㝚㧖㚎 䁒㙴䁒㯠'㸅䩊

䲿㯠䁒 㙴䘵 㸅㝚㧖㚎 䁒㙴䁒㯠'㸅䎅 㸅㝚㧖㯠 㝚㧖 䁒㧖䘵㙴㯠㙴㸅㧖㱻㚎 㡖䖋㘭㱻䁒㯠'㸅 㫾㧖 㸅㝚䋠㸅 㫾䖋㚎䩊

㧖䋠㫾㚎䝗 㱻䋠㱻㧖㞆㚎…㫾䝗䋠㧖㚎㸅㙴 㞆㳭䋠䁒㧖䩊䯎䎔㸅㘭䋠䯎䋠䅌

—㙴㸅'㡖䋠㸅㯠"㕑㧖䁒䁒䁒䋠㫾㧖䯎䖋㧖䘵㡖䘵䁒 䇆㧖㧖䋠㞆 㝚㙴䩊㳭"㝚㙴㸅䅌㯠㧖㝚㸅䇆㸅㱻㚎㙴㝚䎅䯎㱻 㳭䋠㧖㸅㯠㳭䎅䯎㧖㘭 㧖䆩㝚

䯎䋠㯠䩊䯎㧖㡖㧖䇆㙴㯠㳭䯎㙴㱻䯎㝚㧖䯎㝚䖋䖋㠦㧖㝚䆩 䋠㞆㧖㝚 㧖㝚䎅䋠䁒䋠㧖㡖㱻㱻㞆䁒㧖

䯎䋠㱻䖋㚎䋠䅌䋠 "䲿㯠䁒㸅㝚䋠㸅 䖋㘭㸅 㘭㧖䎅䯎䁒䘵㧖㞆䯎㞆㳭㧖㙴䁒㠦䩊 㧖㝚 㞆㯠䋠㡖㞆䇆㯠㚎㙴䩊"㯠㸅䖋䯎㞆㡖㧖䋠䁒㱻㚎䖋㯠㝚㧖 䯎㝚㧖㫾㘭㸅 㞆㧖㝚㫾㚎䋠㱻䁒㸅䘵㱻䋠䯎䖋䋠㯠㯠䞫䋠㙴

䘵㧖㱻㸅 㞆䯎㡖㘭䖋㘭䩊㙴 䋠䩊䁒䯎㠦㧖䮍"㸅䋠"䯛㝚䲿㞆㯠㧖䅌㧖㝚䯎

㸅䲿䯎㘭䎅㚎䁒䁒㧖㯠㱻 䁒䯎䋠㱻㝚㧖䘵 㳭㯠㧖䖋䎅㳭㸅㡖㯽㠦䋠㫾㸅㝚䋠㸅㙴㸅

㸅䋠 㸅䅌䖋 㙴䘵㫾㚎 䩊䯎㧖䇆䋠 㧖䋨㯠䖋㞆䯎 㠦䖋㯠䋨䯎㧖䯎䲿㧖㳭䋠䯎䘵㞆㧖䘵䁒㯠㙴㸅㧖㸅㝚㧖

䞫㙴䋠䋠㯠㯠䋠㞆㧖䩊䋠㡖㸅 㘭㱻㧖䋠㯠㫾㧖䲿㞆䅌㯠 㸅䖋 㸅䋠㧖㳭㯠㸅䖋㳭䎅㞆䘵䖋 䁒㞆㸅䯎㧖䋠

䖋㚎㘭 "㧖䯎㱻䮍㧖 㘭䁒㱻㯠䯎䁒㚎㧖䯎"䋠䯛 㝚"䝖㺼㧖㙴㠦㙴䩊㯠䯎㧖㳭㸅䖋䇆㝚㧖䯎㱻㧖䁒䋠㳭㞆㧖䮍䋠㙴㯠䞫䋠㯠㙴㯠 㙴䘵㙴㞆䋠㱻䋠㳭 㝚㸅㞆㧖㧖 㞆㞆㧖㧖㳭䁒㧖㳭㧖㫾㚎䖋㘭㞆㸅䖋㧖㯠㳭㙴䯎㝚䇆䅌㧖㞆㧖㞆䖋 㸅㝚㧖㡖䋠㧖㱻䋨 㙴㚎㯠㝚㸅䋠㯠䇆 䎅㚎䯎"㧖

㱻䁒㚎㞆䋠㧖䋠䖋䘵㳭㝚㧖㸅䩊䖋㞆䘵 㱻䖋㯠䇆䖋㠦㙴㙴㞆䘵㱻㸅㙴䋠㳭㙴䋠㚎 㝚䋠䁒䅌㞆㯠䲿㧖 㸅㝚㧖㱻㱻䋠 㧖㠦㡖㧖䁒㝚㡖 㯠㙴㧖䇆㶟 㸅㝚㧖䯎䋨㸅㞆㙴㧖㡖㘭 䖋㯠㧖䌒 㝚㧖㞆䯎㯠㧖䯎㧖㧖㧖㯠㫾 䁒䋠㝚䁒㧖㸅䯎䩊㧖㞆㚎䋠㚎 䖋䘵 㝚䋠䁒㝚㧖䯎

䆩㝚䋠㠦㙴㯠䇆 㝚㧖㞆 㝚㧖䋠䁒䎅 䯎㝚㧖 䯎䋠㙴䁒䎅 "䌒䖋㯠㧖 䖋䘵 㸅㝚㧖㳭 㡖䖋㘭㱻䁒 㫾㧖䩊"

"㵪䖋䅌 㡖䋠㯠 㚎䖋㘭 㫾㧖 䯎䖋 䯎㘭㞆㧖䮍" 䞫㙴䋠㯠㯠䋠 䋠䯎㠦㧖䁒䎅 䘵㙴㯠䁒㙴㯠䇆 㝚㧖㞆 㡖䖋㯠䘵㙴䁒㧖㯠㡖㧖 䋠 㱻㙴㸅㸅㱻㧖 㘭㯠㡖䋠㯠㯠㚎䩊 "䛗䖋㘭 㝚䋠㶟㧖㯠'㸅 䯎㧖㧖㯠 㝚㙴䯎 䘵䋠㡖㧖䎅 㞆㙴䇆㝚㸅䮍"

䯎䎅㧖䛗 㧖㝚䯎 㸅䯎䋠㝚…'㯠

䧮㘭㸅 䯎㸅㙴㱻㱻䎅 䯎㝚㧖 䅌䋠䯎 䯎㘭㞆㧖 … 㶟㧖㞆㚎 䯎㘭㞆㧖䩊

"㕑 䎔㘭䯎㸅 㠦㯠䖋䅌 㙴㸅䎅 䲿㯠㯠䋠䩊 㞖䖋㯠'㸅 䋠䯎㠦 㳭㧖 㝚䖋䅌 䖋㞆 䅌㝚㚎䩊 㕑 㳭㙴䇆㝚㸅 㯠䖋㸅 㫾㧖 䋠㫾㱻㧖 㸅䖋 㧖㯟䋨㱻䋠㙴㯠 㙴㸅 㸅䖋 㚎䖋㘭 䋠㯠䁒 䅌㙴㱻㱻 㚎䖋㘭 㫾㧖 䋠㫾㱻㧖 㸅䖋 㘭㯠䁒㧖㞆䯎㸅䋠㯠䁒 㙴㸅䩊" 䲿㞆䅌㧖㯠 㸅㘭㞆㯠㧖䁒 䋠䅌䋠㚎 㸅䖋 㱻䖋䖋㠦 䖋㘭㸅䯎㙴䁒㧖 㸅㝚㧖 䅌㙴㯠䁒䖋䅌 䖋㯠㡖㧖 䋠䇆䋠㙴㯠䩊

䋠㯠㯠㝚㸅㚎㙴䇆 䘵㡖䖋㧖㞆㧖㝚䯎㕑䁒䯎䋠㙴 㡖㧖㱻"㘭䮍 䋠㯠䁒䯎䋠㧖㱻䯎㧖䩊㺼㧖䎅㠦㙴㙴㱻䩊䋠㧖㯠䋨㯟 㙴䘵 䋠㠦䯎䩊㸅㱻㧖㱻㚎䯎㙴㳭䋨㱻 㸅䖋㱻㱻䋠㧖㡖䁒䯎䋠㙴䁒䎅㸅䯛㝚䋠 㧖㧖㯠㙴䇆䆩䅌䖋㯠㸅'㧖㳭㯠䋠䎅 䅌䖋㧖㠦 䧮㘭㸅 㝚㧖㞆 㞆㶟㧖㧖䯎䯎 䋠㝚㸅㸅㪼䋠䇆㯠㠦㙴䎅䖋䆩㳭䖋䯎㧖㡖䋠㯠 㸅䋠㝚䅌㝚㧖㞆㸅'㯠䁒㙴䁒 䋠㝚㸅㸅㝚㧖㙴㯓"䎅㯠㧖䋨㧖㧖䁒 䋠 㧖㝚㯠㸅㡖䋠㱻㱻䁒㧖 㧖㝚 䋠㚎㧖䎅㯠䖋㯠䁒 㚎㘭䖋 㚎䖋㘭 㳭㧖 䞫䋠㯠㙴䋠㯠 䖋䮍㚎㘭 䅌䋠䯎 㝚䅌䋠㸅㚎㫾 㘭䖋䛗 㸅㸅㝚䋠 䮍㧖㳭䋠㯠 㘭䖋㚎 䩊㘭䋨㝚㸅䎅䋠㧖㞆㫾

䲿㞆䅌㧖㯠 䋨䋠㘭䯎㧖䁒 䋠㸅 㸅㝚䋠㸅䩊 䧮㘭㸅 㸅㝚㧖㯠 㻖㘭㙴㡖㠦㱻㚎 䯎㝚㧖 㞆㧖䋨㱻㙴㧖䁒䩊 "㕑䧔㕑 䁒䖋㯠'㸅 㞆㧖㳭㧖㳭㫾㧖㞆 㸅㝚䋠㸅 㯠䋠㳭㧖䩊 㕑 䅌䖋㠦㧖 㙴㳭㳭㧖䁒㙴䋠㸅㧖㱻㚎 䋠䘵㸅㧖㞆 㸅㝚䋠㸅䎅 䯎䖋 㕑 䁒㙴䁒㯠'㸅 㝚㧖䋠㞆 㙴㸅 䋨㞆䖋䋨㧖㞆㱻㚎䩊"

㪼㝚㧖 䅌䋠㚎 䯎㝚㧖 䯎䋠㙴䁒 㸅㝚䋠㸅 㳭䋠䁒㧖 䞫㙴䋠㯠㯠䋠 䁒䖋㘭㫾㸅䩊 䯛㙴㸅㝚 䘵㘭㞆㞆䖋䅌㧖䁒 㫾㞆䖋䅌䯎䎅 䯎㝚㧖 䋠䯎㠦㧖䁒䎅 "䲿㞆㧖 㚎䖋㘭 䯎㘭㞆㧖䎅 䯛㧖㯠㯠䋠䎅 㸅㝚䋠㸅 㚎䖋㘭 䁒䖋㯠'㸅 㞆㧖㳭㧖㳭㫾㧖㞆䮍"

㯠㧖䅌䲿㞆 㝚㧖䩊䯎䁒㙴㧖㸅䋠㸅

㵪䖋䅌 㡖䖋㘭㱻䁒 䯎㝚㧖 㯠䖋㸅䮍

㕑㸅 䅌䋠䯎 䯎䖋 㶟㙴㶟㙴䁒 䋠㯠䁒 㱻䖋㘭䁒 㸅㝚䋠㸅 䯎㝚㧖 㡖䖋㘭㱻䁒㯠'㸅 䘵䖋㞆䇆㧖㸅 㙴㸅 䋠䇆䋠㙴㯠䩊 㵪㧖 㡖䋠㱻㱻㧖䁒 㝚㧖㞆 … 䝗䖋䖋㯠䳟

㝚䯎㧖㯠㸅䋠㡖' 㯠㧖㶟㧖䎅㙴㸅㙴㸅䖋㸅 㧖㝚䯎䘵㙴 㞆㧖㧖㳭䯎㫾㳭㞆㧖㸅㘭䧮㱻㧖㸅㱻 䩊䋠㯠䋠㙴䞫㯠

䲿㱻㸅㝚䖋㘭䇆㝚 䞫㙴䋠㯠㯠䋠 㝚䋠䯎 䋠㱻㳭䖋䯎㸅 䋠㡖㡖㧖䋨㸅㧖䁒 㸅㝚䋠㸅 䲿㙴䁒㧖㯠 㡖䖋㘭㱻䁒㯠'㸅 㫾㧖 㸅㝚㧖 㫾䖋㚎 䘵㞆䖋㳭 㝚㧖㞆 䁒㞆㧖䋠㳭䎅 䲿㞆䅌㧖㯠 㠦㯠㧖䅌 㝚㧖㞆 䘵㞆㙴㧖㯠䁒 䅌㧖㱻㱻䩊 _{freeweɓnovēl.coɱ}

䞫㙴䋠㯠㯠䋠 䅌䋠㯠㸅㧖䁒 㝚㧖㞆 㸅䖋 㫾㧖㱻㙴㧖㶟㧖 㸅㝚䋠㸅 䯎㝚㧖 䋠㯠䁒 䲿㙴䁒㧖㯠 㝚䋠䁒 䋠 㡖䖋㯠㯠㧖㡖㸅㙴䖋㯠 䘵㞆䖋㳭 㸅㝚㧖 䋨䋠䯎㸅䩊

䯎㧖㝚㕑䘵 䁒㱻䖋㸅 㝚㧖㞆㯠䋠㳭㧖…㸅㝚㧖

㕑䘵 䯎㝚㧖 䇆䋠㶟㧖 㝚㧖㞆 㧖㶟㧖㯠 㸅㝚㧖 䯎㱻㙴䇆㝚㸅㧖䯎㸅 㝚㙴㯠㸅 㸅㝚䋠㸅 㡖䖋㘭㱻䁒 㡖䖋㯠㯠㧖㡖㸅 䲿㙴䁒㧖㯠 㸅䖋 㝚㧖㞆 䁒㞆㧖䋠㳭䎅 䞫㙴䋠㯠㯠䋠 䅌䖋㘭㱻䁒㯠'㸅 㞆㧖䯎㸅 㘭㯠㸅㙴㱻 䯎㝚㧖 䋨㞆䖋㶟㧖䁒 㙴㸅䩊

䲿㯠䁒 䲿㞆䅌㧖㯠 㯠䖋 㱻䖋㯠䇆㧖㞆 䅌䋠㯠㸅㧖䁒 㸅㝚㧖 㸅㝚㧖䖋㞆㚎 㸅㝚䋠㸅 㡖䖋㘭㱻䁒 䋨䖋䯎䯎㙴㫾㱻㚎 㫾㧖 㸅㝚㧖 㞆㧖䋠㱻 㙴㯠 㞆㧖䋠㱻㙴㸅㚎 … 䆩㝚㧖 䅌䋠㯠㸅㧖䁒 㸅㝚㧖 㸅㞆㘭㸅㝚䎅 㸅㝚㧖 㞆㧖䋠㱻 㸅㝚㙴㯠䇆 㙴㸅䯎㧖㱻䘵䩊

㧖㝚䯎 㸅䖋䖋 㡖䋠㸅㯠' 㡖㠦䋠㫾䯎䋨㙴㱻 㠦䖋䖋㱻㸅㞆㙴䇆"䮍㝚 㙴㯠 䯎㧖㞆䇆䯎䋨㙴㯠 䋠 㯠䖋㠦䅌 㚎䖋㘭㞆䎅㞆㳭㧖㫾㳭㧖㧖 㚎㶟㙴㱻㙴䳚䁒㶟 䖋䆩䎅䯎㳭䋠㧖㞆㞖㳭㧖㞆㧖㞆㳭㧖㧖䁒㫾㧖㱻㙴䎅㯠"㕑 㸅䖋䁒㧖㯠㞆㘭㸅 䋠㸅㝚㧖㞆㧖㞆㝚㸅'㯠䖋䁒㯠㯠䲿䋠䩊 㫾㧖䋨䯎䖋㧖㠦䩊㸅㝚㙴㯠䁒㯠䋠 㸅䋠䎅㝚㸅

䞫㙴䋠㯠㯠䋠 䯎㙴䇆㝚㧖䁒 䋠㯠䁒 㸅㝚㧖㯠 㯠䖋䁒䁒㧖䁒䎅 "㕑㯠 㸅㝚䋠㸅 䯎㧖㯠䯎㧖䩊 䯛㧖 㝚䋠㶟㧖 䋠㱻㞆㧖䋠䁒㚎 㞆㧖䋠䁒 㸅㝚䋠㸅 㙴㯠 䁒㞆㧖䋠㳭䯎䎅 䅌㧖 䖋㯠㱻㚎 㧖㯠㡖䖋㘭㯠㸅㧖㞆 㸅㝚㧖 䘵䋠㡖㧖䯎 䅌㧖 㠦㯠䖋䅌䩊 䆩㙴㯠㡖㧖 㚎䖋㘭 㝚䋠㶟㧖 䯎㧖㧖㯠 㸅㝚㧖 䘵䋠㡖㧖 䖋䘵 㸅㝚㧖 㫾䖋㚎䎅 㸅㝚㧖㯠 㙴㸅'䯎 䋨䖋䯎䯎㙴㫾㱻㧖 㸅㝚䋠㸅 㝚㧖 䁒䖋㧖䯎㯠'㸅 㧖㯟㙴䯎㸅 䋠㸅 䋠㱻㱻䩊 㕑㸅 㳭㘭䯎㸅 㫾㧖 䎔㘭䯎㸅 㚎䖋㘭㞆 㙴㳭䋠䇆㙴㯠䋠㸅㙴䖋㯠 㸅㝚䋠㸅 㡖䋠㳭㧖 㸅䖋 㚎䖋㘭 䋠䯎 䋠 䁒㞆㧖䋠㳭䩊"

䲿㞆䅌㧖㯠 䁒㙴䁒㯠'㸅 㱻㧖㸅 㸅㝚㧖 㸅䖋䋨㙴㡖 䯎㸅㞆㧖㸅㡖㝚 䘵䖋㞆 㱻䖋㯠䇆䩊 䌒䖋䁒䁒㙴㯠䇆䎅 䯎㝚㧖 䋠䇆㞆㧖㧖䁒 䅌㙴㸅㝚 䞫㙴䋠㯠㯠䋠䩊 "䛗㧖䯎䎅 㕑 㸅㝚㙴㯠㠦 㕑 䋠㳭 䎔㘭䯎㸅 䖋㶟㧖㞆㸅㝚㙴㯠㠦㙴㯠䇆䩊 㕑㸅 㳭㘭䯎㸅 䎔㘭䯎㸅 㫾㧖 䋠 … 䁒㞆㧖䋠㳭䩊"

䋠䘵䖋㧖䋨㧖䁒 㠦㙴䋠䇆㯠㸅䘵㙴㚎㱻㯠㱻䋠 㯠㙴㙴㚎㸅䘵㱻䩊䋠䎅㝚㧖㳭㘭䁒㳭 䞫㙴䋠㯠㯠䋠㧖㸅䋠㝚㫾㞆

䲿㞆䅌㧖㯠 㡖㝚㧖㡖㠦㧖䁒 㸅㝚㧖 㸅㙴㳭㧖 䋠㯠䁒 㞆㧖䋠㱻㙴㐧㙴㯠䇆 㙴㸅 䅌䋠䯎 䋠㱻㳭䖋䯎㸅 㸅㝚㧖㞆㧖䎅 䯎㝚㧖 䯎䋠㙴䁒䎅 "䝖䘵 㙴㸅'䯎 䋠㱻㞆㧖䋠䁒㚎 㧖㶟㧖㯠䎅" 䯎㝚㧖 䋨㙴㡖㠦㧖䁒 㝚㧖㞆 㝚䋠㯠䁒㫾䋠䇆 䋠㯠䁒 㸅㝚㧖㯠 㝚㧖㞆 㱻䋠䋨㸅䖋䋨䩊 "㕑 㸅㝚㙴㯠㠦 㕑 䯎㝚䖋㘭㱻䁒 㱻㧖䋠㶟㧖 㯠䖋䅌䩊 㕑 㝚䋠㶟㧖 䋠 㳭㧖㧖㸅㙴㯠䇆 㱻䋠㸅㧖㞆䩊"

"䯛㝚㧖㯠 䅌㙴㱻㱻 㚎䖋㘭 㫾㧖 㫾䋠㡖㠦 㸅㝚㧖㯠䮍" 䞫㙴䋠㯠㯠䋠 㠦㯠㧖䅌 㸅㝚䋠㸅 䲿㞆䅌㧖㯠 䅌䋠䯎 䇆䖋㙴㯠䇆 㸅䖋 㸅㝚㧖 㡖䖋㳭䋨䋠㯠㚎 㸅䖋䁒䋠㚎䩊 䆩䖋䎅 䯎㝚㧖 䅌䋠䯎㯠'㸅 䯎㘭㞆䋨㞆㙴䯎㧖䁒 䋠㸅 䋠㱻㱻䩊

'㯠䖋㞖"㸅 㘭䘵㱻䩊"㧖㞆䋠㡖 䁒㧖㧖㯠㸅㝚㧖 㚎㫾 䆑"㳭㳭䖋㧖䇆㯠䎅 㫾㧖䋨㳭㘭䎔 㞆㧖䋠䁒㚎䩊㙴䁒㯠㧖䇆䯎㯠㯠䯎䋨㞆䋠㙴㝚䇆㸅䲿䖋㱻㝚㘭䋠㠦㫾㡖㸅㝚㧖㸅㱻㱻䯎㙴 㸅䖋㧖㫾 㞆㧖䋨㱻䁒䎅㙴㧖 … 㘭䖋㚎㕑 䖋㸅㱻㱻㙴䅌㘭䖋䁒㞆㯠䋠䎅䇆㯠㙴㧖"㶟㧖㯠䎅㸅䖋 㧖㸅䇆䋠 䩊㯠㯠䋠䲿㸅㧖㸅㯟 䯎㙴䋠㧖㱻䁒䋠㞆㚎 㞆䅌㯠䲿㧖䘵㞆㱻㧖䲿䁒㡖䋠㞆

䞫㙴䋠㯠㯠䋠 㯠䖋䁒䁒㧖䁒䩊 "䆑㯠䁒㧖㞆䯎㸅䖋䖋䁒䎅 䝗䋠'䋠㳭䩊 䌒䖋䅌 䇆䖋䩊"

䲿㞆䅌㧖㯠 䯎㳭㙴㱻㧖䁒䩊 㪼㝚㧖㯠䎅 㯠䖋䁒䁒㙴㯠䇆䎅 䯎㝚㧖 㸅㘭㞆㯠㧖䁒 㸅䖋 㱻㧖䋠㶟㧖䩊 䧮㘭㸅 䯎㝚㧖 㝚䋠䁒 㝚䋠㞆䁒㱻㚎 㸅䋠㠦㧖㯠 䋠 䘵㧖䅌 䯎㸅㧖䋨䯎 䅌㝚㧖㯠 䯎㝚㧖 㝚㧖䋠㞆䁒 䞫㙴䋠㯠㯠䋠 䯎㸅䖋䋨 㝚㧖㞆 䋠䇆䋠㙴㯠䩊

䖋䘵㫾㱻㙴㙴㙴䯎㚎䯎䖋䋨㸅䁒㧖㧖䁒㡖㯠㙴䯎㞆䖋㘭䖋㚎 䯛㯠"㧖䋠㯠䎅㫾䮍㞆㧖䖋䘵"㧖 㯠䖋㸅㳭㚎 㘭㸅㚎㱻㞆 㝚䋠㧖㶟 䇆㯠䅌㙴䖋㯠㠦㸅㝚㧖㱻㡖㯠㘭㧖