’ ‘The word of whom?’ came scoffingly from the pretty lips. 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. An admirable alternative presented itself and she sighed, spreading her hands. But in the train going home her aunt reasoned it out. " "Because he said he was a Yale man?" "That might be it. Sheppard. “I forbid it!” she said firmly. The tables were then cleared. His room was last at the end of one winding corner.
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