Spurlock had sensed what had gone completely over McClintock's head—that this was the playing of a soul in damnation. “Here we are,” he said, “shining through each other like light through a stained-glass window. So kind, so good to me always. I don’t half disagree with you, Vee, really; only thing is, I don’t see how you’re going to pull it off. That had shut him up for a while. ‘Jacques!’ Melusine dropped to her haunches beside his inert form, feeling for the wound. You need have no apprehensions about him, Sir Rowland.
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