"I'm bitter," Sir Knavely told me. He raised his glass and drank. His furry chin went deep into his Tiger's Milk. Then he set it down. "Why are you bitter?" I asked. I wondered why Sir Knavely had demanded this secret meeting with me. I looked around at the peeling wallpaper and ancient gaslights lining the walls of this seedy bar just off Sunset Blvd.

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