She would take the items with her; bury the items and her bloodstained clothes in one of the many sinkholes in the huge landfill/garbage dump on the south side of town. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. ‘It is, you understand, that Monsieur Charvill did not—how do you say in English?—having an eye to an eye—’ ‘Didn’t see eye to eye with the Vicomte Valade? That I can well believe. Moreoever, it had cost her a whipping and several days’ imprisonment in her cell on bread and water. ‘It is in truth you?’ ‘Of course it is I. The brightness Capes had diffused over the world glorified even his rival.
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