I told you no good would come of it. To him she had always appeared as a mere pleasure-loving parasite—something quite insignificant. After what seemed like an eternity he turned right onto a dirt road that ended unceremoniously at a copse of leafless trees. "You have killed him," cried Winifred in alarm. "Those boys out there think this is some new religious rite and that you are skinning the dog alive to eat him!" The shock of this information loosened Spurlock's grip on the dog, who bolted out of the kitchen and out of the house, maintaining his mile-a-minute gait until he reached the jungle muck, where he proceeded to neutralize the poison with which he had been lathered by rolling in the muck.
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