No wonder that Trenchard, as he gazed at this fearful being, should have some misgivings cross him. And Anna was conscious of a few moments of exquisite emotion. “Are you A, B, C, or D?” he asked. 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. “Great Scott!” he exclaimed huskily.
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