"Stop lolling around," Toffee said, "and come down here."
"Sure," George said, and drifted blithely down to the floor. "Something on your mind?"
"Yes," Toffee said. "Murder!"
"George!" Marc said. "You've got to help us. Regardless of your personal feelings ... or lack of them ... you can't...."
George shrugged with great indifference. "What difference does it make to me if they blow up the city?" he asked. "The High Council will be recalling me at any moment now. Let the city go or stay, I won't be around to see it."
"How do you kill a ghost?" Toffee murmured.
Marc glanced in the direction of the Blemishes. It was evident that their labors were nearly at an end. The rain was beating in a steady roar, high on the roof above them. There couldn't be too much time left. He turned decisively toward George.
"George!" he said. "I'll make you a proposition. What you want, is to get rid of me forever, isn't it? So you can stay on earth?"
"That's the idea," George admitted.