I’ll take over here. It was an unspoken curfew in the Beck house on week nights. I’m anxious, joyfully anxious, like a man when he has found a treasure. It isn’t law, nor custom, nor masculine violence settled that. His eyes were closed. I think over all sorts of things. “You have no right to hold me to a bargain which on your side was a lie. We want it badly at the present time. Then they would leave and she would go back to being alone. 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. The horse-soldiers wheeled round and cleared a path: the foot closed in upon the cart. Do so; and I am yours as heretofore.
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