‘Then you don’t blame me? I mean, me the Devil. If that’s who I am.’ ‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t blame you. You’re just doing what you do. What do you do?’ ‘That’s another good question,’ the Devil said. ‘I used to have a purpose. We both had a purpose, God and me. Now? I just go from one window to another and stare out. Or stare in. Sometimes I do a few conjuring-tricks, push a button here, pull a lever there. But my heart’s not in it. Basically, I don’t do anything any more. I despair, if you want the honest truth. I mean, the world doesn’t need me. It’s going to hell on a handcart, if you’ll
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