They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. "But this need give you no uneasiness," pursued Jonathan; "Mrs. He donned his winter coat. 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. But she did not speak. Jack had got into one of the pens at the north side of the chapel. “I wonder which of us enjoys that most,” said Capes—“does he, or do we?” “He seems to get a zest—” “He does it and forgets it.
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