"I have saved the executioner a labour, by cutting his throat," replied Blueskin. 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. He said daring things with a grace which made them irresistible, his eyes flashed back upon her some eloquent but silent appreciation of the change in her manner towards him. He noted that she was fully dressed, that her hair was carefully done, that there was a knotted ribbon around her throat. And neither had any of that theatricality which demands gestures and facial expression.
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