Marriette held on tight to Torrance's arm. They walked with a young priest who was showing them through the poor quarters of the city. Marriette had thought she was living dangerously when she had visited the market by herself. What she was seeing now was beyond her imagining. People stared at them from doorways of buildings that leaned crazily against each other. Clothes that Marriette wouldn't have used as rags hung haphazardly from lines strung wherever there was space. The children were the worst. They either ran with frenetic energy, screaming and fighting, or sat listless on the side of the road.
The horrific smell wasn't all from the butcher yard upwind. She hated to think of what she was walking through.
"Almost there now," Father Thom said, though Marriette found it hard to call
