* * * * *
Norma looked at him. "Don't stop me," she said. "I'm going to write
'Hellflower' across that alabaster forehead."
Farradyne shuddered. His imagination had stopped working at the point
of removing fingernails and applying cigarettes to the skin. Now it
leaped forward. A formerly flawless skin covered with scar-tissue
lettering of accusals, viciousness, and probably lewdness.
"Are you ready to talk?" Farradyne asked Carolyn.
"I'll talk. I'll talk because you'll never get a chance to use the
information."
"You talk, and I'll take my chances on that."