“Take her limbs again. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. It had, as it were, blown up at the concussion of his first step. 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. To be no longer with Martha was strange. ’ The breathy laugh came, and Madame Valade abandoned her fan. She was like an angel with one wing. “Don’t we all rather humbug about the coarseness? All we women, I mean,” said she.
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