Then to Martin's brandy-shop, in Fleet Street. 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. He died in the war. Fancy, as they say hereabouts!" What had aroused this open-air monologue was a small tin sign in a window. She moaned, having failed in her mission to find her mother and her God. " "I'll give you something better worth keeping," she answered, detaching the ornament from her neck, and presenting it to him; "this contains a lock of my hair, and may remind you sometimes of your little sister.
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