It was the blood she found that cemented her decision that her foster daughter was a criminal. “We settled long ago—we’re hard stuff. ” “You could never be that,” he answered, “but you are at least more serious than usual. ‘It is of no use to try to stop me. 70 <9> A MARRIAGE, PART II She dreamt of the inn they had stopped at after her suicide attempt, the flea-ridden hostel her husband had angrily toted her to after the incident at the country house. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone. She has even found them accommodation in the house where she is putting up herself. 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. Well, after all, he seemed to be turning the subject.
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