” She looked at him; his face, downcast and in profile, was handsome and strong. Old and dilapidated, the widow's domicile looked the very picture of desolation and misery. 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. This was David Courtlaw, whose ways, too, had never been very different from the ways of other men as regards her sex. I didn't mean it. Her aunt returned before the packing was done, and Ann Veronica lunched with an uneasy sense of bag and hold-all packed up-stairs and inadequately hidden from chance intruders by the valance of the bed.
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