Empathy

A number of weeks ago I sat in the dining room of an inn some miles outside of London. The meal was excellent–rabbit and wild mushroom pie, goose fat roasted potatoes, and sticky toffee pudding for desert. I ate with a close friend and associate. It was a perfect evening to have been disrupted by another group of businessmen, one of whom was American; his accent was obvious, but so too the uncanny capacity to speak an order of magnitude louder than is required.
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