‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. Morgan the trader did not haggle over the pearls, but gave me at once what he judged a fair price. She went about the gory business of disposing of the bodies, cutting them up with a large butcher knife and packing the light dry pieces of their bloodless remains in a double ply garbage bag, pieces that looked like overcooked, ruined meat. She struggled against it quite uselessly. ‘Still more would I be so if he had come himself to tell me this. He kissed her again. Henceforth, I utterly throw off the yoke you have laid upon me. The streets were deserted as they drove past familiar sites.
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