Who Needs a Dream? Who Needs Ambition?

"Oh yes, his very difficult time," Molokov said, managing to hide his sense of outrage. Sergievsky had brought all of his troubles onto himself and he really should not be surprised that he would tell an revisionist version of what happened to others.

"I should be happy to play," he lied effortlessly as he steered Joan over to a more deserted section of the beach. A few more feet and then they would be out of view. "Whenever you would like."