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. Slowly a mirthless and very unpleasant smile dawned upon his face. Take, if you please, your own pistol. She was pensive and thoughtful. I didn’t dream, not even in my wildest dreaming, that—you might have any need of me. ‘From the convent, where else?’ ‘It does not strike me that you can possibly have been in a convent. The militia offered little in the way of relief. Spurlock plodded through the heavy sand, leaden in the heart and mind as well as in the feet.
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