The Missioner's teeth were set tight.

There was a strange gleam of fire in his eyes.

An unspoken malediction rose out of his soul.
The work was done! He wanted to hurl the yellow trinket, shaped so sacrilegiously in the image of a heart, as far as he could fling it into the forest.

It seemed to burn his fingers, and he held for it a personal hatred.

But it was for Marie! Marie would prize it, and Marie would purify it.