In the first place, Mrs. The sound of their strident voices floated upwards, the high nasal note of the predominant Americans, the shrill laughter of girls quick to appreciate the wit of such of their male companions as thought it worth while to be amusing. Her knees almost sank beneath her as she raised the latch of the front door and looked out. 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. Stunning and continuous, the din seemed almost to take away the power of hearing. She looked stealthily at Anna. Hoped you'd not be retaken.
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