"Gregg realised at once the Swami was right. He couldn't believe that he had forgotten her insults and the way that she had ignored him. Sam needed to...be shown the error of her ways; to be convinced of the power of the Swami. He was about to thank the Swami for his guidance when Strange lifted up his hands sending two shimmering globes of light along the corridor towards Gregg. As they passed him the walls of the corridor dissolved with a soft hissing noise and he was laying, sweat soaked, in. Sweaty and spent, Beauregard collapsed atop a heap of fluffy pillows beside her and she curled against him. “My goodness, Lorelei. My goodness,” he held her close, and murmured into her hair, “Come back to Charleston with me.” She smiled, letting him think whatever he wanted, knowing she was in New York to stay. If circumstances were different, Lorelei would have happily become Mrs. Beauregard Caulfield. She’d be the mistress of a grand house in Charleston, tended to by many servants, riding to. More

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