She traced him by his scent. Maggot. The risk I run is nothing to yours. ” She laid her fingers for a moment upon his arm. She heard the ocean in the distance, waves crashing on the beach, high tide. They had completed a circuit of the mansion before Roding’s frustration burst out. ” Lucy spoke up, “We used to call that ‘playing the coquette’. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. She was about to rush to his side, when she saw his clenched hands rise and fall upon the sand repeatedly. You might get faint, but you can fight it. I've been hunting for this particular job for a thousand years!" She smiled a little sadly over this fine enthusiasm; for in her wisdom she had a clear perception where it would eventually end—in the veranda chair.
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