Clark opened his mouth, wanting to say he couldn't, but the words were swallowed back.
Because he suddenly realized, if he said "no," what then?
The imperial edict in his arms, wasn't it meant for him to handle this matter?
He certainly couldn't say, "Vickery can't do it well, but I can."
Saying that would be akin to hitting his own face, wouldn't it?
But what if he said he could?
What if he said Vickery could handle this matter well?
Then his lengthy discourse on how Vickery was "too outstanding," "offending people," "not understanding unity," wouldn't all that be said in vain?
Clark's mind was racing, yet his words lagged a half beat behind.
"This..." He deliberated over his choice of words, "Mr. Vickley... Indeed, he has made great achievements in medicine, that is unquestionable. It's just handling such... um... sensitive affairs may require some... how should I put it... some..."
He stalled.
Arthur looked at him, his gaze calm, as if waiting for him to continue.
