He comforted himself, however, with the certainty which he felt of capturing his prey on the Sunday. She felt her chest trying to float up, but the blessed undertow, the dreaded reason why she was warned to never bathe in the ocean, sucked her feet down, putting the decision where it belonged, into the hands of God. "I wouldn't force him for the world: but if he don't tip the stivers, may I be cursed if he don't get a taste of the aqua pompaginis. Analysis would come later, when the primitive conscience, satisfied, would cease to dominate his thought and action. You would be alarmed of how sulphurous it is, how sickeningly sweet.
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