Those were dreams. He dodged the boot this time, and smashed his left upon the Wastrel's lips, leaving them bloody pulp. “Why not? It might amuse me. There lay upon this stand a book bound in limp black leather—the Holy Bible. Where is Father Spencer? I must have absolution. Will you answer me a question first?” “If I can,” Ennison said. "Ah!" exclaimed Wild, looking angrily towards his supposed attendant. The will to live had returned.
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