“Yep.”
“And give up Satan and the Sarah?”
“Yep.”
“But what will you do for a living?”
“Start a la’ndry.”
“But there’s no one here to give you any washing to do.”
“Then I’ll have all the easier time.”
“That’s true. It’s a bright idea, and I’ll stay with you and carry the laundry basket.”
“No, you won’t! I’ll stick here alone.”
Suddenly, across the water from the Sarah and shattering this fantasy, came a voice. It was Satan’s voice, distant and borne on the breeze. Ratcliffe thought he could make out the words “lazy dog.”