" At this juncture, two women, very smartly attired in silk hoods and cloaks, appeared at the door of the Lodge. 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. She had never even brought a friend home in her time at the Becks, let alone been asked on dates. But take a drop of wine," urged he, filling a drinking-horn and presenting it to her; "it's choice canary, and'll do you good. It was in no sense confessional; it was a state of mind in the patient the doctor had already anticipated.
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