[The trouble with Wysteria Poppell—or Madame de Foncé, or whatever she is insisting on being called today—is that she is clever.
Indeed, life would be much easier for a great number of people if she weren't, or were slightly less so, or perhaps even if she simply wielded her attentiveness a little more even handedly. How is anyone meant to protect themselves from the laser of her perception being turned so abruptly in their direction when it's ordinarily engaged so thoroughly toward other ends?
Though, really. Mister Dickerson had been in possession if no answer for her first question and had a ready one for this one. The math is hardly difficult.]
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Indeed, life would be much easier for a great number of people if she weren't, or were slightly less so, or perhaps even if she simply wielded her attentiveness a little more even handedly. How is anyone meant to protect themselves from the laser of her perception being turned so abruptly in their direction when it's ordinarily engaged so thoroughly toward other ends?
Though, really. Mister Dickerson had been in possession if no answer for her first question and had a ready one for this one. The math is hardly difficult.]
But you would prefer it if he did.