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. Perhaps her odd beauty—and that too was natural—stirred these thoughts into being. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. The glass in the windows was broken—the roof unthatched—the walls dilapidated. You know as well as I do that it was accident. ’ ‘Did I so?’ Gerald said, amused. ” Their eyes met for a moment.
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