“Come to my lectures. You will see your error.”
Rama drew back. The man was like a wave of energy, his low voice pounding into her head. “I don’t attend lectures. They are a poor use of my time, because I’m hard of hearing, even with an ear trumpet.”
Reverend Pentecost laughed. “Come anyway. I’ll be sure you have a seat at the front where you can hear every word. Unless you prefer to remain as you are?”
Reverend Pentecost lectured every evening for three weeks. Not one to back down from a challenge, Rama sat in the front row listening to every word. Walking home after the last lecture Rama had a breakthrough.
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