But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go. We'll have some fun down there at my place, Spurlock; but we'll probably bore your wife to death. ‘Gad, what a mess!’ Gerald pulled free, and Melusine broke back, staring at him. It was wonderful to think this thing had lived, had felt and suffered. Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine. She was glad when he went on: “I want to be your city of refuge from every sort of bother.
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