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. And yet, often when alone, he wondered: had McClintock been wrong, or had she ceased to care in that way? The possibility that she no longer cared should have filled him with unalloyed happiness, whereas it depressed him, cut the natural vanity of youth into shreds and tatters. ‘You know what I am about,’ exclaimed Melusine impatiently. . Lots of us are like that. The soldiers! They must not find her here. If I don't, you shall clap me in the Condemned Hold in his stead. Mr. Diane spoke first.
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