Stavanger Bay deixar lo sortir

he was a half-man, with a half-life., and he had never felt that so keenly as he did now. lestan did not know how to answer elodie's questions, and so withdrew into a heavily pensive silence. she was not wrong, of course, but her ministering voice took him to mind of bridget, which in turn reminded him of the bay, which reminded him of the little seaside den in which so much strife had taken place that he was sick to think of it —
"blood," he muttered, mind shot through with fragmented illusions; his jaws, dripping; his voice, a shout.
"m-my cousin is at t-the creek," lestan said at last with a low sigh. "h-he'll let us in, at l-least. i-i'm n-not sure h-he really w-wants to see m-me, though. i'm — i w-was — w-well. i was intolerable, elodie."
and none of this was really an answer, but lestan was exhausted now, and wanted to lie down.