“I propose,” Sir John said, “that we pay for our dinner—which we haven’t had— tip the garçon a sovereign, and take a cab to the Ritz. “Hey, Mike. His conscience never told him to go back and take his punishment; it tortured him only in regard to the deed itself. I could see his little animal brain churning away, inventing plans for me, formulating his revenge. But we waste time. She no longer felt sick or dizzy, her muscles returned to a relaxed, supple state. That's worth something to me; for I don't mind paying for revenge.
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