There’s no sense in morality, I suppose, unless you are fundamentally immoral. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. Blue haze had settled beyond the black silhouettes of trees, graduating to the deep violet that began the night sky. “I will make it possible,” he cried. "Not dangerously, I hope," returned Thames; "but fly—save yourself.
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