“Let’s go. As she danced there was in her ears the faded echo of wooden tom-toms. She complained of the crowded cities, dismayed that the people were repopulating them like rabbits. I suppose my creed is, ‘I believe rather indistinctly in God the Father Almighty, substratum of the evolutionary process, and, in a vein of vague sentimentality that doesn’t give a datum for anything at all, in Jesus Christ, His Son. Not daring, however, to listen to it, he ran on. Spurlock bent his head to his knees. “Want to see my fangs?” She asked. She had only to get through this, to solace Manning as much as she could, to put such clumsy plasterings on his wounds as were possible, and then, anyhow, she would be free—free to put her fate to the test.
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