Sir John followed me to London and married me. Stanley. 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. Somebody ought to talk to him, warn him. ‘You’re not going to kill me this time. His curiosity put itself into a question.
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