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188 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1988
Open the doors, the Russians say, here comes trouble.
"And he's a vegetarian, too, like George Bernard Shaw. But Shaw isn't a poet. It must be easier for him, writing prose, to sustain himself on vegetables."
He took an envelope out of his drawer, and, conscious of taking only a mild risk, since the whole unwieldy administration of All the Russias, which kept working, even if only just, depended on the passing of countless numbers of such envelopes, he slid it across the top of the desk. The inspector opened it without embarrassment, counted out the three hundred roubles it contained and transferred them to a leather container, half way between a wallet and a purse, which he kept for ‘innocent income’.