She would buy a Greyhound ticket to New Orleans, make a kill or two, then travel into Texas and seduce some wandering man into taking her to Mexico, feast upon him once they got there. She was radiant. Stanley regarded him through his glasses with something approaching animosity. Then Capes shifted his eyes to her microscope and the little trays of unmounted sections beside it. ‘I am not French in the least, bête. She had turned round sideways, so as to look down into the fire. ’ Melusine sighed deeply. The chance had gone.
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