The books would be soaked and ruined in the rain anyway through the thin skin of the pack. She passed him silently as she dropped Michelle’s dried corpse into the open clay pit awkwardly, like a discarded doll. He was no Hoddy, but a tremendous man, with hairy arms and bearded face and drink-shattered intellect. You may have to carry them further and longer than you think. ‘You do not understand, Gérard. “It is not, of course, a pleasant subject of conversation for you or for me, yet I think I may venture to suggest to you that your sister’s—er—indiscretions—have reached a point which makes a separation between you almost a necessity. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. .
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