‘Couldn’t reconcile it with my dooty to leave you here—’ A thought made Melusine stop dead, turning to him. And pouring the contents of a small powderflask into a bumper of brandy, he tendered him the mixture. CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. She gazed with a quiet detachment toward the window and the Oxford Street traffic, and in her heart she was busy kicking this man to death. Certain of my prey, I can afford to wait for it. That's the job. His conscience never told him to go back and take his punishment; it tortured him only in regard to the deed itself. Perhaps he truly meant it – perhaps there was a force within him that could withstand the hardships of existing past a mortal lifetime.
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