“And yet,” he said, “you bid me talk cheerfully, or not at all. It is no fault of your own that you are not at this moment standing there with your head blown off. Nothing shall induce me to act contrary to the dictates of my conscience. His face warm, Captain Roding glared them into silence, and firmly marched his captive off down Piccadilly, heading for Stratton Street where the town house of the Alderley family was situated. “No, Lucy, because Satan does not exist. I will pray for you. In the mean time, let me advise you as a friend not to irritate him by a refusal, which would be as useless as vexatious. “You must do more than think of it,” he urged.
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