After the Bath

After the BathWhat the Water Gave MeThe Suicide of Dorothy Hale
Awed by the bloody pair, the troopers listened silently, their engines stilled.
"Lacey no," Leonid countered. "Mrs. Anastasia yes. Self-sacrificehood to needs of classmates." Like Greene's, his voice remained subdued, and both faced straight ahead as they spoke.
"Might be I was wrong about that Lacey Greene admitted. "But Lacey or Stacey, it weren't no sacrificeness. It was plumb floozihood."Slumped in the sidecar and blindfolded, they started up at mention of my name. Pocket-torches focused on them, and I was doubly surprised: Peter Greene it was, and Leonid Alexandrov, handcuffed together; their coats and faces were as bloodstained as the linen that bound their eyes -- not blindfolds after all, but bandages.
"Aren't they a pair?" Stoker demanded of his troopers, but with a smolder in his tone meant for me. "And look at Hans's
"Possible," Leonid granted. "But I don't think, how do you say, all-said-and-donewise."
"I do," Greene said. "Might be mistaken, though."
"Also."