conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is the first five paragraphs for a book with the title 'The Looking Glass War'?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Looking Glass War
  Leclerc, coming out of his reverie, smiled. 'I'll tell you something about cover; something you'll learn for yourself. Never volunteer information. People don't expect you to explain yourself. After all, what is there to explain? The ground's prepared; the Consul will have our teleprint. Show your passport and play the rest by ear.'
  Avery proposed they took a bus but Leclerc wouldn't queue, so they remained standing at the corner. He began talking about official cars again. 'It's utterly absurd,' he said. 'In the old days we had a pool of our own, now we have two vans and the Treasury won't let us pay the driver overtime. How can I run a Department under those conditions?'
  In the end they walked. Leclerc had the address in his head; he made a point of remembering such things. It was awkward for Avery to walk beside him for long, because Leclerc adjusted his pace to that of the taller man. Avery tried to keep himself in check, but sometimes he forgot and Leclerc would stretch uncomfortably beside him thrusting upwards with each stride. A fine rain was falling. It was still very cold.
  There were times when Avery felt for Leclerc a deep, protective love. Leclerc had that indefinable quality of arousing guilt, as if his companion but poorly replaced a departed friend. Somebody had been there, and gone; perhaps a whole world, a generation; somebody had made him and disowned him, so that while at one moment Avery could hate him for his transparent manipulation, detest his prinking gestures as a child detests the affectations of a parent, at the next he ran to protect him, responsible and deeply caring. Beyond all the vicissitudes of their relationship, he was somehow grateful that Leclerc had engendered him; and thus they created that strong love which exists between the weak; each became the stage to which the other related his actions.
  They had found the address on the map. Thirty-four Roxburgh Gardens; it was off Kennington High Street. The road soon became dingier, the houses more crowded. Gas lights burnt yellow and flat like paper moons.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is five more paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Lowe stood lightly to attention while Haldane prepared to pay him; travelling money, salary and thirty-seven and six for the knife, plus twenty-two shillings for the sheath, a flat metal one with a spring to facilitate extraction. Lowe wrote him a receipt, signing it S.L. for reasons of security. 'I got the knife at cost,' he explained. 'It's a fiddle we work through the sports club.' He seemed proud of that.
  Haldane gave Leiser a trenchcoat and wellingtons and Avery took him for a walk. They went by bus as far as Headington, sitting on the top deck.
  They got out at the terminus and began trudging through the rain. Avery said, 'It's because he wasn't one of us; that's why you didn't like him.'
  Leiser laughed, slipped his arm through Avery's. The rain, drifting in slow waves across the empty street, ran down their faces and trickled into the collars of their mackintoshes. Avery pressed his arm to his side, holding Leiser's hand captive, and they continued their walk in shared contentment, forgetting the rain or playing with it, treading in the deepest parts and not caring about their clothes.
  They spent a morning on cyphers. Haldane acted as instructor. He had brought pieces of silk cloth imprinted with a cypher of the type Leiser would use, and a chart backed with cardboard for converting letters into numerals. He put the chart on the chimney-piece, wedging it behind the marble clock, and lectured them, rather as Leclerc would have done, but without affectation. Avery and Leiser sat at the table, pencils in hand, and under Haldane's tuition converted one passage after another into numbers according to the chart, deducted the result from figures on the silk cloth, finally re-translating into letters. It was a process which demanded application rather than concentration, and perhaps because Leiser was trying too hard he became bothered and erratic.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is the last three paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: There was a footfall in the corridor. She struck at him in terror, the raincoat swinging round her. As they came in he was standing away from her, the knife at her throat, his thumb uppermost, the blade parallel to the ground. His back was very straight and his small face was turned to her, empty, held by some private discipline, a man once more intent upon appearances, conscious of tradition.
  The farmhouse lay in darkness, blind and not hearing, motionless against the swaying larches and the running sky.
  They had left a shutter open and it banged slowly without rhythm, according to the strength of the storm. Snow gathered like ash and was dispersed. They had gone, leaving nothing behind but tyre tracks in the hardening mud, a twist of wire, and the sleepless tapping of the north wind.