’ He endured the inevitable scold with patience, saluted Mrs Chalkney’s faded cheek, and went off to endure the necessary delay with what patience he could muster. She had eaten them, murdered them routinely, and yet he loved her still. Like the nuns, she hardly ever looked in a mirror. Spurlock understood that his vantage would be temporary; the Wastrel had been knocked down, not out. "No, Rollo; not this afternoon.
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