“Well?” she said. Their soft, voluptuous bodies wove among each other to the faint notes of a lyre. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. ‘Yes, th-there it is,’ she uttered, stumbling a little over the words. She screamed as she saw that their throats had been ripped out and their dead eyes bulged with horror as their heads lolled from mere strings of sinew and flesh. I thank God for the beauty you love and the faults you love. Prudence. Forgive me. ‘Wait a minute, though.
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