If only to say goodbye. It drives one mad at times. “Agreed,” he said with queer exaltation, and his grip tightened on her hand. Shari draped herself lazily upon her unmade bed. He loaded the launch with a thousand pounds—all she could carry—and started home immediately after sundown; but even then he lost from a hundred to a hundred and fifty pounds before he had the stuff cached in McClintock's bamboo-covered sawdust pit. Proceeding along the wall, Jack reached the southern tower, over the battlements of which he clambered, and crossing it, dropped upon the roof of the gate. You’re mine.
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