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... and
what do I find? You! Butting in, thumb-fingered and ham-handed as usual,
destroying my careful groundwork."
"Now, Sadie-"
"Bloody! Lazarus, what is this compulsion that makes you lie and cheat? Why
can't you be honest most of the time? And where do you get this nasty itch to
interfere? Not from Maureen;
that's certain. Answer me. God damn it!- before I tear off your head and
stuff it down your throat!"
"Gwen, I was simply trying to clear the-"
My darling interrupted with such a blast of colorful and imaginative
profanity that I hesitate to try to record it because I can't do it justice; my
memory is not perfect. It was somewhat like "Change the Sacred Name of Arkansas"
but more lyrical. She did this in a high chant that minded me of some pagan
priestess praying at sacrifice-human sacrifice with Dr. Hubert the victim.
While Hazel was sounding off, three women came in through that open wall.
(More than that number of men looked in but backed away hastily; I suspect that
they did not want to be present while Dr. Hubert was being scalped.) The three
women were all beauties but not at all alike.
One was a blonde as tall as I am or taller, a Norse goddess so perfect as
to be utterly unlikely. She listened, shook her head sorrowfully, then faded
back into the garden and was gone. The next was another redhead whom I mistook
at first for either Laz or Lor-then I saw that she was
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