The Importance of Time

Hugh Vericker was a man of unstable moods. The reason of his note to me had been that he really didn't want to give us a grain of succor. Our density was a thing too perfect in its way to touch. He had formed the habit of depending on it, and if the spell was to break, it must break by some force of its own. And there we go, the end of chapter 4. This is impossible, and it's wrecking my time. Who needs this damn author, this conceited person with his stupid ideas about his own writings?