’ ‘There is no need for this,’ he ventured mildly, and lifted his finger to show his own pistol was not cocked. “It jars. And, by way of checking his housekeeper's familiarity, he pointed significantly to the table. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. It had, as it were, blown up at the concussion of his first step. Sheppard's house, loud yells and vociferations reached his ears; and, looking downwards, he perceived a great stir amid the mob. He watched her orgasm come to life and he could hold back no longer. "The end is the most beautiful in English literature.
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