For a long time she surveyed a row of towering holly-hocks, as though they offered an explanation. “The Beck family has the cooking gene. They don’t now. She would buy a Greyhound ticket to New Orleans, make a kill or two, then travel into Texas and seduce some wandering man into taking her to Mexico, feast upon him once they got there. The clanking of chains, the grating of locks, and the rumbling of bolts must have been music in Jonathan's ears, so much pains did he take to subject himself to such sounds. You must know that. I have an appetite which I dare not increase.
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