"I understand," she said. ’ *** It must have been fate, Gerald decided, near an hour later, staring intently at the closed French windows on the raised alcove that led out to the terrace. Every eye was fixed upon the prisoner. ” “It is you,” he cried, “you, who are talking folly, when you speak of friendship between you and me. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. Always as black and bitter as gall. This is something above all rules. 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.
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